Kaziglu Bey
by L Moonshade
Summary: ABANDONED What happens when an XMen joins Bartlett's staff? Rating changed for language and nonexplicit violence
1. Prologue: Rosslyn

Disclaimer: West Wing belongs to Aaron Sorkin, X-Men belong to Marvel Comics. I don't own anything, except for Sable Drakul and the plot of the story (well, not for the prologue). Spoilers, for West Wing, expect them for season two on. For X-men, um…just expect spoilers. I'm going by what I remember of comic books, movies, and the Fox cartoon, so it's a mish-mosh. If you wanna sue me, you can, but you won't get much but some pocket lint.

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Prologue

Mutation. It is the key to our evolution. It has enabled us to evolve from a single-celled organism into the dominant species on the planet. This process is slow, normally taking thousands and thousands of years. But, every few hundred millennia, evolution leaps forward.

It has been a few hundred millennia, and mankind has evolved.

Sable Drakul shifted. Why was she here? This certainly wasn't her idea of fun; as much as she liked President Bartlett, she had no overwhelming desire to wait in a chill drizzle to shake his hand. But, as she'd been going by on her way to an appointment, something had told her to stop. After six years' work with her mentor, she'd learned when to follow her hunches, and this was one of those times. So, here she was, waiting for the President to finish his speech (he had) and come out (he hadn't), all the while stretching her senses, trying to figure out why she was here.

The crowd cheered as the President came out. At the same time, the kid next to her started to stink of nervousness. Sable glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He stood still, looking straight ahead, not frowning, but not smiling, not cheering.

Sable could see the President as he started working the line. She focused on the tall, slim man next to him, the one with the bulge under his jacket, and thought as hard as she could, "Don't let him work the line, get him out of here," over and over. But she wasn't telepathic, and the Secret Service Agent didn't hear her.

Then, all too soon, the President was in front of her, reaching for her hand. Sable took it, even as she saw the boy next to her look up and nod. There was a red point of light above the President's heart.

Sable didn't have to follow the kid's gaze (but she did, anyhow, just to make sure) to understand what was going on. She pulled the President down, even as she yelled, "Gun!"

She shouted in unison with another Secret Service Agent, just as shots rang out. The tall man finished pulling the President down. The President, out of instinct, gripped Sable's hand even tighter and she was drawn down as well. She rolled over the barrier in order to avoid breaking her arm. Like _that_ would ever happen. Sable found herself next to the President, decided to do what she could, and covered him.

"I've got bodyguards for that," he told her. "Get out of the way!"

"They're busy at the moment."

It was over in a matter of less than a minute. The shooting done, agents were sent to call ambulances, get the guys in the high-rise across the street (Sable figured that they were dead), and get the President out of there. Sable, with four bullets in her, was taken by ambulance to George Washington Hospital. She let them, but only after they promised that Dr. Hank McCoy would treat her. Hell, her appointment had been with him, anyhow.

Once at the hospital, Sable was put into an examining room, her blood pressure and temperature taken ("How can they be normal?"), then she was left alone. There were worried people outside; she was able to hear enough to learn that someone else had been hit. Only one bullet, but it had passed a fraction of an inch from his spine, and he was in critical condition.

"You are late for our appointment."

The man who came in wasn't very tall—only five feet nine inches—but he was built like a linebacker, with a square jaw and muscular built. His words were sharp, but the tone, and his genial smile, told a different story. Sable smiled back.

"I was delayed," she said, holding out her hand. "I had a hunch I should be there. It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. McCoy."

"Do you always follow your hunches?" he said, his gigantic hand engulfing hers. "Likewise."

"Only the good ones."

McCoy snorted. "You took four bullets. That's a good hunch?"

"The President's alive, isn't he? You going to examine me, or what?"

McCoy did so. "Where were you shot, again?"

"Twice in the back, between the fourth and fifth ribs, once in the left shoulder—it would have hit the scapula. And, once in the head, over the left occipital lobe."

"There are no traces of any of those hits. You know medical terminology?"

"I'm two years away from my doctorate in medicine."

"Impressive. How old are you?"

"Eighteen. The healing factor is part of my mutation. You're a mutant, too."

McCoy frowned. "My dear lady, I don't know why you think…"

"Heightened senses, Doc. Mutants smell different than normals. You're a mutant, and I'm here to recruit you."

"Recruit me for what?"

"My mentor, Professor Charles Xavier, is the founder of a school for young mutants."

"What do they learn there? Oh, just a minute."

There had been a knock on the door, McCoy now opened it. Sable couldn't see who it was for McCoy's blocking the doorway, but she could hear.

"Dr. McCoy? I'm Special Agent Ron Butterfield, head of the President's security detail. I need to speak to your patient, if that's all right."

"Yes, that's fine. Ms. Drakul, I'll start your discharge paperwork. We can speak later."

"Thank you, Dr."

McCoy left. Butterfield stepped into the room and Sable saw that he was the one who had been with the President.

"Your name is Sable Drakul, correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I was waiting to see the President, when I noticed the kid to my right. He looked to be maybe sixteen or seventeen, and I noticed him because he wasn't…Everyone else was chatting, waiting for the President, but he was still, kept to himself, looked straight ahead. As the President took my hand, I saw the kid look up and nod. At the same time, I saw a red dot on the President's suit. I knew what it was, looked anyhow, just to make sure it wasn't a joke, but I was already pulling him down. When I looked, I saw the laser sight, so I yelled gun."

"Why did you cover him?"

"When you shoved him down, he gripped my hand. It was jump the barrier and go down with him, or risk breaking an arm." His, not mine, Sabine thought. "I figured that, as long as I was there, I may as well help."

"You could have been killed. That didn't cross your mind?"

"No."

"The paramedics tell me you were shot four times, two of them seriously. Yet you're being discharged, not two hours after the event."

Sable considered giving him some cock and bull story, but figured it was pointless. He already knew.

"I'm a mutant. If it doesn't kill me instantly, I'll heal. Quickly."

"I won't bring it up. To anyone."

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

"It's the least I can do. Given where you were hit, it's a good bet that the President would be dead right now, if you hadn't covered him. Is that why you did it? Because you knew you couldn't be killed?"

Sable blinked. That thought certainly hadn't crossed her mind. "No. I did it because it was the right thing to do."

"How good a look did you get at this kid?"

"Pretty good. I'd be happy to work with a sketch artist, if that's what you're getting at."

"I'll get one in as soon as possible. You'd make a good agent, you know."

"Thank you. But, I've already got my career sorted out."

There was a knock on the door. Butterfield went to the door, followed someone back. Sable jumped off the exam table.

"Sit, sit," the President said. "You're injured."

"Not as bad as all that," Sable said, but she sat back down. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir."

"The pleasure is mine, Ms. Drakul," Bartlett said, offering his hand. "I owe you a great deal."

Sable shook his hand. "No, Sir, you really don't."

"You took four bullets, or so they tell me. How long will you be here?"

"They're working on discharging me now. I was just grazed."

"Good, I'm glad. I don't want anyone to have to die for me."

"You're the President. People have to."

"You're too young to understand that. How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Going to college next year?"

"I finish in two years."

"Really? Started college early?"

"Six years ago."

"You'll graduate with a degree in what?"

"I have a Master's in genetics already, and will finish with Doctorates in medicine and psychology, as well."

"Why those three subjects?"

"Mutant studies. I want to study the effects of mutation on the psyche and physiology of mutants."

"You know where you're going. I have to go now, I've got to check on one of my people."

"The one who took a bullet near the spine?"

"Yes. Josh Lyman, my Deputy Chief of Staff."

"He'll be in my thoughts."

"Thank you. It's been good talking to you." He paused, thinking. "I should get you a medal."

"I'd rather you didn't, Sir. I'd rather be known for my research."

Bartlett nodded. "Ron, keep her name out of this. Tell the hospital to, as well."

"Yes, Sir."

"Thank you again, Ms. Drakul. I look forward to reading about your work."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

Bartlett and his bodyguard left. A moment later McCoy came back, with a change of clothes. She changed, then they went up to McCoy's office to talk. By the time Sable returned to her hotel room two hours later, Dr. Hank McCoy had agreed to return with her to New York State to check out Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

He would return to DC only to have his things shipped up north.

A/N: I usually finish stories before I post. Not so with this one. So, if you want to read more, let me know; no reviews, no continue. Also, if there's anything you want to see, let me know. Heck, if you want to be a character in this, let me know, and I'll fit you in.


	2. The Fifth

Leo McGarry paced the lobby. He'd made the call half-an-hour ago, where was she? He heaved a sigh, paused to check his watch, then resumed his pacing.

"Mr. McGarry?"

Leo looked up. The girl who hailed him was dressed in skin-tight black leather, including a duster she'd taken off and was carrying, revealing silver Chinese dragons, one on each arm, tattooed with the bodies wrapping around her arms, the tails disappearing under her gloves. Her mid-riff bearing shirt showed off the navel piercing, she had three more in her left ear and one in the right. Her face was narrow and too young looking, especially with long, wavy, blue-black hair framing it and the slim, arched eyebrows that rested over the dark Lennon specs that covered her eyes. Leo frowned, wondering what this punk—or was it Goth—kid could want with him.

"Can I help you?"

The girl smiled wryly, as if she knew how she looked. "I'm Sable Drakul. I came as soon as you called; I didn't take time to change. I would have, but you sounded like it was urgent."

Leo blinked. This was the doctor the President had insisted on seeing, one of the most respected doctors in America today? "Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's fine. You want to follow me?"

"Lead the way."

"How old are you, anyway?" Leo asked as they stepped onto the elevator.

"Twenty-one."

"And you're a doctor?"

"What can I say? I'm smarter than the average bear. What does he need? The MS expert, the mutation expert, or the psychiatrist?"

"The psychiatrist. That's all I'm going to say."

"That's fine. I'd rather get it from him; I just wanted to know which hat to wear."

"Yeah. You're really that good?"

"Mmhm."

"You're not bragging, are you?"

"I'm just answering your question, Mr. McGarry. Look, I may be a kid—and act like one when I'm not playing doctor—but I'm still a professional."

"Even though you look like a punk kid?"

"It's Goth, and, actually, my preferred mode of dress is great for people who are prejudiced. It's a perfect example of why not to judge a book by its cover."

"Most of us do."

"And it's a crying shame."

The elevator stopped and Leo stepped out first, leading Sable to the penthouse doors. He knocked and it was opened a second later.

President Jed Bartlett looked like shit, Sable thought. His face was pale, with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. He nodded to Leo, then caught sight of Sable and frowned.

"The clothes don't make the woman, I hope."

"I came as soon as I could."

"Thank you. Thank you, Leo. Doctor, would you like to come in?"

"Thank you, Mr. President."

Leo left and Bartlett led Sable into the penthouse. He paced, but she dropped into a chair.

"Would you like anything to drink, Doctor? Are you old enough?"

"Yes, Sir, I am, and no, thank you. I don't drink when I'm seeing a patient. I need to have my wits about me. And, please, call me Sable."

"I imagine so." Bartlett made himself a drink, started to drink it, then looked at Sable. "You don't mind if I do?"

"No more than three, but no, I don't."

"Why not more than three?"

"I don't want you passing out on me, Sir."

"Oh. You going to take those glasses off?"

"Not yet."

"It's not that bright in here."

"I have extremely sensitive eyes."

"Oh. It's not from an injury is it? One you got at Rosslyn?"

"I wasn't injured at Rosslyn. You're not feeling guilty about that, are you?"

"No, not anymore. Ron helped, told me I needed to remember that you'd made your own decision, knew the consequences. He was right, wasn't he? I've been having trouble sleeping."

"Yes, Sir, he was. I didn't tell anyone who I was seeing."

"I didn't think you would. You strike me as being more together than that. It's an election year and, by itself, who cares? But, with the MS, and the President's not sleeping, and you do have a psychiatrist's license…"

"I know all that, it's why I didn't tell anyone who I was seeing. What's going on?"

"I can't sleep."

"Sleeping disorders aren't my specialty, you know. You can't sleep at all? What happens?"

"I lay down and I stay awake."

"How long?"

"Four nights."

"You haven't slept in four nights? That's no good. Have you tried taking something for it?"

"The third night. It didn't work until the next morning, in the middle of a national security briefing."

"Oh, that's bad. That's very bad."

"Yeah, it is." Bartlett dug out a cigar and lit it.

"How many of those do you smoke a day? Nicotine can keep you up."

"One, but not every day. You think if I put this out, I'll fall asleep?"

"No."

"Then, what's next?"

"Let's look at possible physical factors."

They went through those and struck out, as they did with lifestyle factors.

"Then, how about environmental factors."

"Like…?"

"Too much light?"

"No."

"Extremes in room temperature?"

"Nope."

"Noise? Like planes flying overhead."

"Planes aren't allowed to fly over the White House."

"But you haven't been in the White House for the past four nights."

"No. This place is quiet as a tomb."

Sable flagged that. It was a popular saying, but he seemed to be taking it to heart. "You haven't slept in four nights. How much do you usually get?"

"Four or five hours."

"Well, we've covered all the bases, except psychological. Let's move on to that."

"What were the odds?" he said dryly.

"Pretty good. Insomnia can be a symptom of depression. Are you depressed?"

"No."

"Yeah. Sometimes it's a symptom of acute stress. Are you under any stress from…your…job…" Sable paused, realizing what she was saying to whom. "Well, then, let it never be said that there's no such thing as a stupid question, because that one really qualified. Are you under any more stress than normal?"

"Congress was investigating me, and I was censured. Then I had to give the State of the Union address. I'm running for reelection, things are blowing up everywhere, and I've chosen the General Assembly of the UN to define a tougher foreign policy. No more stress than usual, no. You know, I hate the word stress. It's nothing, really."

"So you don't feel stress?"

"Why should I? I have a job I like and my family's healthy."

"That doesn't preclude stress."

"It's for other people. Look, I was stressed five nights ago, and I slept just fine."

"So, what happened four nights ago?"

"I want my money back. You're not taking notes, and I can't see your eyes."

"I can honestly say I have never before had a more ornery patient. I have eidetic memory. I don't need to take notes and I find them limiting; I don't always know what's important until later in the conversation. And you won't see my eyes until you decide you can trust me enough to ask for another session."

"How can I trust you if I can't look you in the eye? How much do you charge, anyhow?"

"You haven't even tried yet. Four hundred an hour."

"Four hundred dollars and hour, you ought to bring your own damn lingerie."

"I would, but I don't wear any."

Bartlett blinked. "I don't think I needed to know that."

"Then watch what smartass comments you make."

"Yeah. Four hundred…For what?"

"You know, I'm not really sure."

Bartlett sat, finally, in another chair, leaned back and sighed. "I can't sleep. I'll be tired and I'll lie there and it doesn't happen."

"What happened four nights ago?"

"I told off Governor Ritchie."

"Good for you."

"I lost a good man, one of Ron's Secret Service Agents."

"I heard. I'm sorry. Anything else?"

"That's not enough?"

"Sir, you can screw around if you want, but we're on your dime, and I sleep fine."

There was a pause. "That's not the way one normally speaks to me."

"No, I'm sure it isn't."

"I'd been having trouble for a while before. I wasn't staying awake, but I wasn't sleeping well. I had a conversation with one of my aides, and he called me on something."

"What did he say?"

"Well, I guess we talked about a lot of things. Who we think the Republican challenger's gonna be and incumbency and campaign strategy, strategic overview, but it all boils down to the fact that my father never liked me."

Sable was quiet for a minute as she took that in. Then, "Well, at least we're closer to what I do."

"Yeah. Thought that'd make you happy."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It doesn't, you know."

"What?"

"It doesn't make me happy. It can't be easy being you, inside your head, I mean."

"What's wrong with my head?" Bartlett asked, offended.

"I don't know."

"Of course. That's be four hundred fifty dollars."

"I meant I don't know yet. If you give me a chance…They keep moving the goalpost on you, huh? Always giving you something else to do, once you've reached that post."

"Isn't it good for a person to keep setting goals?"

"Sure. But it's tricky for somebody who's still trying to get his father to stop hitting him."

"I'm told most men lead lives of quiet desperation."

"But that's most men, other men, not you. That's the ones who feel stress. You're destined for something else."

"I have abilities."

"And, now, the chance to use them."

"I have."

"This is one hell of a thing. Washington set the standard for the Presidents to follow. 'Thank you, next. And what will you do for us today, Mr. Bartlett?' 'Oh, we've had six straight quarters of economic growth."

"That's not easy."

"I can well imagine it's not."

"I think I've made tough choices."

"I think Lincoln did what he thought was right, even though it meant losing half the country. I think you don't do what you think is right for fear of losing one state's electoral votes."

"You don't know anything."

"About the Presidency? I'm the first to admit that. But, I do know what motivates people, and I've already got you pegged."

"I'm not trying to get my father to like me."

"Good, 'cause it ain't gonna happen. We're done here."

"What?"

"We've been here for two hours, a double session, there's only so much soul-searching the human mind can take at one time, and I don't go over a double session. Never."

"I hate to put it this way, but I'm the President and you're not, and we're done when I say we're done."

Sable got to her feet. "You really are ornery, aren't you? You need help, Sir, and I'm willing to give it. I was there for you at Rosslyn, I'm here for you now. But, when we're in session, I don't give a crap that you're the President. When we're in session, I'm the doctor and you're not, and _I_ call the shots. One week, Sir, I'll see you then."

"I'll be in Washington."

"Then, so will I," Sable told him, then left.

Bartlett moved to the window, stood there for a good long time, thinking.


	3. One Week Later

Once again, Sabine was met in the lobby by Leo. But this was no lobby of some mere hotel (no matter how ritzy), this was the lobby of the White House. Sable wasn't really impressed.

"You look more like a doctor, this time."

Sable smiled, she was wearing a pant suit, a dark blue that went well with her hair. The suit was ironed crisply and hid her navel piercing, as well as her tattoos. She'd removed two of the piercings in her left ear, though she still wore the dark glasses.

"Thank you," she told Leo. "I had time to change, this time."

"Yeah. Those your bags? I'll have security put them where they'll be safe. Follow me."

"Sure. Nice building."

"You're in the White House, and all you have to say is 'nice building'? You're not impressed?"

"I've dealt with the building blocks of life and the makeup of the human mind. I've seen things that would give you nightmares for the rest of the night. It takes a lot to impress me anymore, Mr. McGarry, and some mere building isn't gonna do it. Even if it is the White House."

"You're a tough audience."

"Yeah. There is that."

"That's the Oval Office," Leo said, pointing to a room. "That's the outer office, and those are…"

"I don't care."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I don't care. I don't need to know, I don't want to know, I'm not here to talk to them."

Leo looked at her with understanding as his estimation of her went up a notch. She did know which way the wind blew. "Right. Fine. He's in his private study. You didn't talk to anyone on the plane, did you?"

"I didn't talk to anyone last time, why would I now? No, Mr. McGarry, I didn't."

"Right. Good. And it's Leo."

"Then I'm Sable."

Sable followed Leo into the residence section of the White House, then into a study. It was well-decorated with antique furniture, except for the TV and stand.

"He'll be right in. Do you need anything, to drink or eat?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you."

"Why the glasses?"

"Sensitive eyes. Genetic condition."

"Oh, yeah, right. He'll be with you in a minute."

"Thanks."

Leo left, but didn't shut the door. Sable took off her glasses, waited only a minute before she heard footsteps coming down the hall. The President came in and shut the doors behind him and Sable got to her feet.

"Thank you for coming back. I wasn't sure you would."

"I told you I'd be here."

"Even though it's the day before Christmas Eve?"

"Not my favorite holiday. I can live without it for one year, if need be."

"What is your favorite holiday?"

"Halloween."

"I should have known. You took off your glasses. Should I turn off the lights?"

"No, I'll be fine."

"Your eyes aren't sensitive?"

"They are, but they compensate well in daylight. It's the way they look."

She moved into the light, and Bartlett saw what she meant. Her eyes were a uniform silver, except for the opalescent white of her pupils.

"Yeah, I could see where that may be a problem. You're a mutant? Is that why you didn't have any injuries at Rosslyn?"

"Yes, Sir," she said, taking her seat again. "I have a regeneration factor. If it doesn't kill me instantly, it won't."

"How badly were you hurt?"

"I was shot in the shoulder, head, lung, and heart."

"You really did save my life."

"So Ron tells me. How have you been sleeping."

"Good." He changed his mind under the gaze of those strange eyes. "Better, but still badly. Is there a crime which, if it wasn't illegal, you'd do?"

"I'd park anywhere."

"But you wouldn't rob a bank?"

"No."

Bartlett studied her a moment. "I can see you like this doing that. But that punk…"

"Goth."

"Goth girl I saw last time, she wouldn't just park anywhere. What would she do?"

Sable was quiet for a moment, decided not to answer. "What's on your mind?"

"I can't tell you."

"That's a great excuse, except that, well, yeah, you can."

"No, really, I can't. It's high security. To say nothing about…If I tell you I committed a crime, you're required by law to report it."

"I'm not known to play by the rules. Either as Goth Girl or a doctor."

"I don't want to put you in that position. There's a new study out; international math and science. America ranks nineteen out of twenty-one countries."

"Your segues are worse than mine. That's bad."

"That my segues are so terrible?"

"No, the study."

"That's what I'm talking about."

"And this is why you still can't sleep?" When she got no answer, Sable said, "Who did worse?"

"South Africa and Cyprus."

"Questionable company. I certainly don't see them as leaders of the world in math and science."

"No. Nor us, anymore, for that matter. One-third of math and half of science teachers didn't major in that subject. Or minor in it, for that matter."

"I did very well in both."

"I'm sure you did. We're increasing education spending by more than one hundred billion dollars a year, yet we have seventh grade textbooks in ninth grade and the same answers get a higher score on SATs."

"I know. What'd you get?"

"On the SATs? You don't want to know."

"Double eight hundred, wasn't it?"

"Eight hundred/seven ninety. I couldn't figure out what answer I got wrong, so I took it again, and got the same score…"

"You were only ten points away from acing the SATs and you took it again? I wasn't even that bad."

"Yeah, I know, it's a little…something."

"It's a little something, all right. Offhand, I'd call it obsessive. Is there a reason you felt you had to prove yourself? Your father, perhaps?"

"So, schools are at a crisis and our infant mortality rate is more than twice what it is in Singapore. I think we should keep more people alive, then send them to school. Work towards a little peace and prosperity."

"You feel like you haven't done enough."

"Sable, the width and depth of what I haven't done about it yet is staggering. You know, the President can't do anything about hurricanes. I should be able to do something about the airplane."

Sable didn't say anything for a heartbeat. "I don't know what it means yet, but you've introduced a new word into the conversation."

Bartlett frowned. "What word?"

"Airplane."

"What do airplanes signify?"

"I don't know. What do they signify to you?"

There was a pause before Bartlett spoke again. "I've spaced out for a minute at meetings. Three times this week, I hear someone talking and realize I didn't hear part of it."

"This is unusual?"

"Yes. Very."

"It could be a symptom of the lack of sleep. Or, it could be a symptom of what's causing the lack of sleep, and don't think for a minute I believe it's America's ranking in this study."

"I don't know what it is."

"I think you do, Sir."

"You sound very confident of that."

"I'm very good at what I do."

"I'm still awed by the fact that you should have been dead. Is that why you covered me?"

"I covered you because it was the right thing to do."

"Why didn't you tell me then?"

"It didn't matter at that point. Now, it does. You need to be able to trust me, if you're going to open up to me. That means I have to be honest with you. What is it about the airplane?"

"Need to know basis, and you don't need to know."

"If it's affecting you this badly, I do. Does it have to do with what you won't tell me?"

There was no answer. Sable decided to take the chance.

"Murder."

The President blinked. "Pardon?"

"The crime I'd commit if it weren't. Murder. Well, I see it as more as an execution, but…"

"You're talking about a particular person?"

"I wouldn't call him a person. He's more like a rabid dog. He's a mutant, too, with mutations like mine. Heightened senses, speed, strength, agility, and regeneration factor. He's also a psychopath, and loves to kill, just for the fun of it. That's why I'd kill him. It's the only way to stop him from killing."

Bartlett sat in silence a moment, taking in what she was saying. Then, the intercom rang, saving him from having to respond. The fact that he was relieved didn't escape her notice. He picked up the intercom.

"Hi…Yeah." He hung up. "It's Leo."

The doors opened and Leo came in. "Mr. President. The Church of the Nativity is closed. You believe that?"

"Why?"

"I'm finding out. Sable, the airports are both closed. You mind being our guest for a little while? We can put you up in the Lincoln bedroom."

"I'd be happy to stay. Better than a hotel, that's for sure."

"And now, we're one-third of the way through an Agatha Christie novel. 'Where nobody be goin' nowhere. The bridge is washed out.' Now all we have to do is wait for the murder." I'm done for now, Sable, but we can pick up later. You won't force the issue?"

"I'm still a professional, Sir. I won't force you to reveal anything before you're ready."

"Good, thank you. We have a singing group in the mural room, if you're interested. When you need lunch, just ask one of the staffers, and they can show you to the cafeteria. You should introduce yourself to the senior staff, anyhow. Just so they know who you are. Not to mention the fact that they're working on our position on mutants. You may be able to help."

"All right," she said, not happily.

"It looks like we'll be having dinner here tonight; would you care to join me and my family?"

"I'd love to, thank you."

"Very well. Sable, I hope you enjoy your day here. Leo, I'll be in the office."

"Thank you Mr. President," Sable said, standing as he did so.

"Thank you, Sir," Leo said.

They waited for the President to leave, then Leo looked at Sable, opened his mouth to talk.

"Doctor-patient confidentiality, Leo. I can't tell you a thing."

"Yeah. Look, are you going to keep doing that? 'Cause, it's kinda creepy, you know."

Sable shrugged. "You're easy to read. What can I say?"

"You're the one who covered him at Rosslyn, aren't you?"

"Yeah, look, not enough people know about that, so just feel free to blab it to everyone, huh?" she said sarcastically.

"If I'd saved the President's life, I'd want everyone to know."

"Then people would know I'm a mutant and, while I don't mind the two of you knowing, it's only because I trust you not to out me. I'm not ready to tell the world at large, and lose the grudging respect I get from the medical community, now. Besides, I didn't do it to get famous."

"Right. You know he's going to ask you to be his primary doctor."

"He told you?"

"No, I just know him that well. Who better than an expert on MS, and one who's a practicing shrink to boot? No one would think twice if he had a meeting with you. You're not going to be able to fix him in a few days, after all."

"No, that's never the case. Yeah, I know, I knew when you called me. You know I'm teaching and practicing at a private school, don't you?"

"Yeah. I also know you'll take the job."

"How?"

"Because you covered him at Rosslyn. He needed you then, and you came through. He needs you now, and you'll come through again. Because you didn't cover him to get famous. You'll take the job."

"Yeah," Sable said quietly. "I'll take the job."


	4. Yellow Stars of David

Sable lay stretched out on the bed in the Lincoln Bedroom. The TV was on, but she wasn't really paying any attention to it. She was going over the latest session with the President, looking for any clues as to what was really bothering him. She kept coming back to that plane, wondering. Was it actually a plane that was bothering him, or was that just a symbol of the real issue? At the moment, she had no way of knowing.

There was a knock on the door. Sable pulled on her sunglasses before calling, "Come in."

The door opened and a man stepped just inside far enough to let the door close behind him. "Dr. Drakul…"

"Sable."

"Sable. I'm Toby Zeigler, the Communications Director…Am I interrupting?"

"No, not at all."

"I was wondering if I could talk to you."

"Of course. Have a seat and tell me what I can do for you, Mr. Zeigler."

"You can call me Toby. We're working on mutant policy, specifically the Mutant Registration Act."

"Is it out of committee?"

"No. It won't be, for a while, but we need to know how to deal with it, if it does during this administration."

"How close are you?"

"Everyone else agrees that the bill isn't a good thing."

"You think it is?"

"I don't know. They can't see any good in it, at all. I don't know what to think. It does have its merits…"

"Sure. We register guns, and goodness knows, some of these mutants can be just as dangerous."

"Exactly."

"What are their reasons for not liking the bill? Hey, who is 'they,' anyhow?"

"C. J. Craigg, Press Secretary, Josh Lyman, Leo's deputy, Sam Seaborne, my deputy, and Ainsley Hayes, the Associate White House Council."

"Ah. Well, then, a pretty august body of minds. And, their reasons for being against the bill?"

"Discrimination. They're afraid this bill would alienate mutants, and that we don't want to do that. We may need their help, sometime in the future."

"Well, they have a point. But, since I've worked with mutants, maybe I can clarify those ideas a bit. Discrimination. It's worse than just losing or not getting a job, or a place to live. Mutants are worried about losing their lives. I had a thirteen-year-old boy die on the operating table, from injuries received from a gang of normal humans."

"What did he do? Rob a store?"

"He saved a little girl's life. She chased a ball into the middle of the street. Some jerk—a normal human, I might add—was speeding, doing forty-five in a thirty. The boy in question used his telekinesis to pull her to safety. The little girl's mother was part of the mob that killed him. And, no charges are being brought against anyone in the mob. That's the type of discrimination mutants are looking at. Forcing them to out themselves would literally be life-threatening."

Toby was quiet. "But, if they're dangerous…"

"Not all of them, but, yes, some are. Take Magneto, for example."

"Magneto?"

"That's what he's calling himself, now. He's not a threat yet, but it's a possibility. He can control magnetic fields, to the tune of one hundred tons. That's two hundred thousand pounds of force he can use to push, pull, lift, or crush. Metal is, of course, more susceptible. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

"Yeah."

"Do you?"

"No, not really."

"Bullets, guns, cars, motorcycles, planes, boats, what are they all made of?"

"Met…Oh, shit."

"So. Magneto commits a crime. How do you arrest him? With a police force? With the military? If you send normals in under those conditions, normals will die."

"Would he kill them?"

"He'll do whatever he has to. He lost his entire family in Auschwitz; he won't go behind bars again, not willingly. No, Toby, you don't want to alienate mutants. Not all of them are dangerous, and many will help against this type of thing."

"Yeah. Maybe…"

"This law isn't about mutants, it's about making normals feel safe, and how will they feel safe, if they don't know who's on that list, or not?"

"We could do something…"

"Sure. You could identify them. With something like yellow Stars of David, perhaps?"

Toby looked at her, startled, for a moment, then closed his eyes with a slight groan.

"That won't make normals feel safer, either. So, what next? Internment camps, just like we did to the Japanese during WWII. Then what? None of it will make normals feel safer, because it's ignorance that's breeding their fear. Until that ignorance is dealt with, nothing will make normals feel better, until it escalates into something we can't stop. You know where it will lead, Toby."

Toby heaved a sigh, opened his eyes again. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. You're pretty persuasive."

Sable shrugged. "I just gave you the facts. You figured out what to do about them."

"We're going to lunch. Do you want to come with?"

"You know, I think I might."

Because of the blizzard and the holidays, most of Washington was closed down, so the group lingered over lunch. As well as Toby and the people he'd mentioned, they were joined by Donna, Josh's secretary, and Charlie, the President's personal aide. Sable enjoyed her time with them—everyone was just as quick, witty, and sharp as the President and Leo—and, when she finally got out of Washington on Christmas day, she left knowing she'd come back not just for the President, but for his staff, as well. She had the feeling they'd wind up needing more help on the mutant issue.

But, for now, it was good to be back home, she thought, as she stepped off the plane to be greeted by three of the many people she considered family.


	5. At the Pleasure of the President

"Have you found a place to stay?"

Sable grinned. "Yes, Sir. It's a good place."

"Good. Is it far?"

"No, within walking distance."

"That's an expensive area."

"I'm not hurting."

"Especially at four hundred an hour. I'm sleeping better."

"But still not well? I could try prescribing…"

The President waved the thought away. "Not after the last time. I ordered Abdul Shareef assassinated."

"Yeah."

"I just told you I had someone killed, and all you have to say is 'yeah?' You knew, didn't you?"

"I had my suspicions. I played a hunch, and looked at plane crashes that happened four days before our first meeting. There were a lot, let me tell you. But when I saw the thing on Shareef's…Yeah. I knew."

"But, still, there should be more…"

"If you're looking for someone to condemn you, you're looking in the wrong place."

Bartlett stood, began pacing around the room. "But, murder is morally wrong."

"Why did you have him killed?"

"He was supporting the Bahji terrorist cell. He was behind a number of terrorist activities, and was planning to bomb the Golden Gate Bridge."

"You had hard evidence of this?"

"Yes."

"Why not take him to court? Wouldn't the evidence have stood up?"

"The break, the one piece of information that we were able to follow to get the rest, came from a Russian prisoner. Who had said information beat out of him. In a US court…"

"Yeah. In a US court, that evidence would be thrown out, as well as anything that came from it. So, you had proof, but wouldn't be able to bring him to court. What else could you do?"

"Nothing. But, murder is wrong."

"Executions aren't."

"He wasn't tried! He never got his day in court!"

"Neither did his victims. Look, Sir, you did what you did. Now, you have to deal with that. Not what you could have, or should have, done, but what you did."

"I can't. It's an issue of morality."

"Morality isn't black and white."

"Of course it is. Killing is wrong."

"Sure, it's wrong, which is why you're against the death penalty. I know this. But, was it morally wrong for your Secret Service Agents to kill the gunmen at Rosslyn? They saved a lot of lives in doing so. That's killing in self-defense or the defense of others, and that's a good thing. If that is, then why is what you did wrong? You did so to defend a lot of innocent people who would have died, or been severely injured in the attack on the Golden Gate. If Ron and his men were right in what they did, why are you wrong? You see? Morality isn't always black and white."

Bartlett heaved a sigh. "He wasn't actively engaged…"

"If he's making plans, I'd say he was. You did what you did, and you can let it haunt you, destroy your life, or you can get past it. You've got at least one year left, Sir, maybe five. My vote's for the latter."

"Yeah. I won't be able to do it on my own."

"That's why I'm here."

"Sable. Walk with me."

Sable fell into step with the First Lady. "What can I do for you, Ma'am?"

"I wanted to thank you for helping my husband. You've done an amazing job; he slept like a baby for the first time in what seems like forever."

"That's what I'm here for, Ma'am."

"Jed tells me you've got an apartment. Are you having a warming party?"

"Tomorrow night. You and the President are welcome to come, if it's possible logistically."

"No, we can't. You are inviting the staff, though?"

"Of course. That's where I'm headed now."

"Good. They like you, you know."

"The feeling's mutual. You and the President pick good people to surround yourself with."

The First Lady smiled. "That we do. Welcome to Washington, Sable, I hope you don't come to hate it."

Sable laughed. "It's more like, Washington's likely to come to hate me. I'm rather too outspoken, I think."

"Not for Jed, you're not. Have a good day."

"Thank you, Ma'am. You, too."

They went their separate ways, Dr. Bartlett going towards the residence, Sable to the communications bullpen. She found Toby and Sam together, working on a speech.

"Hey, guys. Mind an interruption?"

"No, we could use a break. What's up?"

"I've got an apartment, and I'm having a party to break it in. Tomorrow night, eight. You're welcome to come."

"Sure. Who else is going to be there?"

"I'm inviting C. J., Leo, Josh, Donna, Charlie, and Ron, and there's going to be a few of my friends from New York."

"Sounds like a lot of people."

"It's a big apartment." Sable pulled out two cards and gave one to each of them. "The address."

"Thanks. Apartment-warming?"

"Yes…no…not really. You don't have to bring anything. Really."

"It's bad luck."

"I'm not really superstitious. Look, I've got to hit everyone else, and then I have a bunch of errands to run. I'll see you later."

"Yeah, we'll be there."

Sable dropped into a sofa, glad the main downstairs room was so large. Everyone she'd invited from the White House was there (with the exception of the President and Mrs. Bartlett), as well as seven of the other teachers from the school. That added up to a lot of people for an apartment, but there was actually room.

"How are you doing?" Jean asked, sitting next to Sable.

"Just fine, thanks. It's nice to see everyone getting along."

"Yeah. I was just talking to Donna. She's an interesting woman."

Sable grinned. "She is. She's a lot of fun. Tell me something, would you? What does Scott have against me? Do you know?"

Jean looked at her husband, who was talking to Leo. "I'm not sure, really. I think he feels you're too much like Logan. You know how he is, playing things by the book."

"And Logan and I are damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead."

"He also resents the fact that you saved me, and he couldn't."

"Oh." For all her training, Sable hadn't seen that one coming. "Well, I can't fight that, then."

"No. I'm sorry."

Sable shrugged. "Don't be. There's nothing either of us can do about it."

"Yeah. Oh, there's C. J. free. Excuse me, I'd like to talk to her."

Jean got up and moved through the crowd. Sable wasn't alone for long, though, as Logan sat down.

"How ya doin', Angel?"

When had he started calling her that, she wondered, before deciding that it didn't really matter. She smiled at him, glad he was here. She had a lot of friends, family, really, back at the school, but she missed Logan the most.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Homesick, yet?"

Sable laughed. "No. I mean, I miss you, but I'm having too much fun here to feel homesick."

"Ya know I miss you too, right?"

"Yeah. I know."

Logan started to say more, but the ringing phone interrupted them.

"Aw, shit," Sable grumbled. "Jean," she called standing, "you're closest to the phone. Would you get it?"

"Got it."

Jean picked up the phone as Sable moved through the crowd towards her. By the time Sable had gotten there, Jean had hung up.

"That was an Admiral Fitzwallace. He said to come as you are, and bring Leo."

"Not good."

"Who is he?"

"No one much, just the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Play hostess for me?"

"Of course."

Sable let out a sharp whistle and everyone turned to her.

"Leo and I have been called into the office. No one else needs come with. Hell, you're welcome to stay; Jean's going to play hostess for me. If you do leave before I get back, thanks for coming, and thanks for the gifts, which I distinctly told you not to bring. I'll see you later."

Sable made her way to the front door, Leo joining her in the hallway.

"Who called?"

"Fitzwallace."

"This isn't going to be good. Ten to one Nancy's there, too."

"That'd be worse?"

"Yeah. You're not changing?"

Sable was wearing her Goth Girl clothes, the ones that showed off her tattoos, and multiple piercings. "I was told to come as I am."

"That's really bad. He wouldn't let them see you like this, normally."

"And there's only one subject that would require them, you, _and_ me."

"Yeah."

Sable caught Jean's attention, tapped her head.

//What do you need?// Jean asked telepathically.

//Let the Staffers and Ron go, but keep the X-Men here. This could be ugly,// Sable thought.

//We'll be here.//

//Thanks.//

Leo knocked on the door, then opened it slightly. "Mr. President?"

"Leo, Sable, come in."

They did. Sable knew who Fitzwallace and Nancy were, but had never seen them before. They came across as competent, self-confident. Sable had learned early on that you had to be to deal with the President. Especially this one.

"This is Dr. Sable Drakul," the President said.

"Dr. Nancy McNally," the woman said, shaking Sable's hand. "National Security Advisor. Call me Nancy."

"Admiral Percy Fitzwallace, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff," the man said, also shaking Sable's hand. "Call me Fitz, and thank you for coming."

"I serve at the pleasure of the President. I'm Sable. Mr. President, why am I here?"

"We've gotten a hold of a videotape. I need you to look at it."

"Any time you're ready."

Fitz hit the play button on the VCR. Sable was, somehow, not shocked to see a familiar figure pop up on the screen, dressed in a dark clothes.

"My name is Magneto, and I am your worst nightmare. There is a threat to mutants from Washington, in the form of the Mutant Registration Act. To neutralize this threat, I am going to take over the El Toro base and its missiles. Washington will disappear, unless this act is killed. You have one week."

When the tape was done, Leo breathed deeply. "We're in deep shit," he muttered.

"I'm not sure about that," Bartlett said.

"Our question is, will he do it?" Nancy said. "You're the psychiatric expert on mutants. Can you tell us?"

"Yes, I can. Yes, he will. And Leo's right, Sir, we're in deep shit."

"Our military is the finest in the world," Fitz said. "We can handle one lone mutant."

"Yes it is, no you can't. He calls himself Magneto for a reason. He can control magnetic fields, use them to create up to one hundred tons of force. Tell me, Fitz, what are your vehicles and weapons made of?"

"Metal. Damn."

"Yeah."

"How can you be sure he'll do it?" Nancy asked. "What clues do you have?"

"He wasn't posturing. When he bluffs something big like this, he makes a show of it, as if trying to convince you he's serious. He didn't do that. He just stood there and told you what he was going to do, and that's it."

"You know him, don't you?" Leo said.

"He used to be a close friend, until he decided the only way to protect mutants was to kill all normal humans. Something like that tends to drive a wedge into a friendship."

"Yeah. We need to discuss options. Sable, thank you for coming."

Sable got to her feet. "Of course. Thank you, Mr. President."

She didn't wait for a response before hurrying out of the room.

"Magneto's going to take over El Toro and the missiles."

The X-Men glanced at each other. "What is the President doing?"

"I don't know, I'm not cleared for that. They are aware of the danger, though."

"We've got to stop him," Scott said. "Sable, you were closer to Magneto than any of us. We'll need you to come with…"

"I can't."

Scott frowned. "You have to."

"I can't. Look, Cyc, this could happen in an hour, a day, a month. I can't take that kind of time, anymore."

"You are one of the X-Men," Ororo said. "The Professor…"

"I don't work for the Professor anymore. I serve at the pleasure of the President, and it's his pleasure to have me in a position to get there fast, when he needs me. I can't do this."

Scott eyed her critically. "Fine, then. Let's go."

They left, Sean and Hank touching her shoulder as they passed, letting her know that they, at least, understood.

Logan actually stopped. "Ya did the right thing."

Sable smiled. "Thanks, Logan. Be careful. You're more vulnerable to him than anyone else."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks, Angel." He gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek, then was gone.


	6. Back to School

Okay, this is the last revised chapter for a bit. The next chapter will be something new, a scene I've since thought of. Thanks for your patience, everyone. You are still there, aren't you? (listens to crickets chirping)

Sable watched the video with a sense of extreme gratefulness. Normally, when fighting, only Logan wore a mask. But, this time, all the X-Men were wearing them. To shield her? Sable thought so.

She was in the Oval Office with the President, Leo, Nancy, and Fitz, watching a group of mutants take on—and defeat—Magneto. Sable watched with a critical eye. It didn't escape her notice how well they worked as a team, backing up and protecting each other. It was good to see, but made her a bit jealous. This is what she should have been a part of.

"When did this happen?" Leo said.

"About four-thirty this morning," Fitz said. "The video you're watching is from security tapes."

"The cameras are sealed?" Sable asked. "I mean, with Magneto throwing magnetism around like that…"

"The recorders are in an underground bunker. Lead-lined."

"Do you know who they are?"

Sable turned to the President. "How could I? Do you really think they'd dress like that normally?"

"No. The question is why?" Bartlett pointed to Ororo, known amongst the X-Men as Storm. On the screen, she was chasing down a missile that had been launched. It was obvious that the attempt was taking everything she had, and then some. "She's risking her life to stop that missile. Why?"

"Why do policemen risk their lives to protect people they don't know? Perhaps she's doing it because it's the right thing to do." On the screen, Storm caught and disarmed the missile, before collapsing. "She just saved a whole lot of lives. Perhaps, that's the only reason."

"I can't believe a mutant would risk her life to protect a people that hates and fears them."

Sable turned on Nancy. "And I can't believe that I'm the only…" She stopped, realizing what she'd been about to say.

"Go ahead," Bartlett said gently, kindly.

"If I hadn't had to be here, I would have done that my damn self. Yes, Nancy, I would have risked my life to protect a people who hates and fears me."

"Why?"

"Like I said, it's the right thing to do. Mutants and normals aren't better or worse than the other, we're just different. I don't know for certain, Mr. President, but I don't think you have to worry about these. If this were just a show, to get us to trust them, she wouldn't have come so close to killing herself."

"I've got to agree, Sir," Fitz said.

"Me too." Leo.

Nancy sighed. "Yeah. I guess Adm. Sissymary and Dr. Frankenstein have a point."

"And here I wanted to be Strangelove," Sable said dryly.

"She's Dr. Strangelove," Fitz said, cocking a thumb at Nancy. "We could call you Dr. Jekyll."

"And when she's in leather she's Ms. Hyde? If we're done here?"

Everyone stood. "Thank you, Mr. President."

"Sit your ass down, Dr. Jekyll, I need to talk to you."

"Yes, Sir." Sable dropped back into her seat, while the others left.

"I'm going to North Carolina for forty-eight hours of debate camp. "

"Yeah, I heard. I was going…"

"I want you there."

Sable blinked, surprised. "I was expecting you to forgo counseling. I mean, we can push it back a day."

"I am forgoing. I want you there to help me with questions on the mutant issue."

"You want me to help with your debate prep? Sir, I'm flattered. Of course, I'll be there."

"You were going home?"

"No, I…"

"Don't lie to me, young lady. You're not so old I can't take you over my knee and spank you."

Sable hid a smile. "Yeah, I was."

"You have a boyfriend up there?"

"Not really."

"Someone you're interested in?"

"Yeah."

"You could bring him with you."

Sable laughed at the image of the feral Logan shut up with the staffers for two days. "Oh, no, Sir. That would be a not good thing."

"You could impress him."

"This wouldn't. If I took down a rabid tiger with my bare hands, that would impress him. Consulting the President, not so much."

"He's a tough customer."

"Yes, he is."

"So you'll be there alone?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I'm sorry about that. Talk to C. J. She'll tell you what time we're leaving."

"Yes, Sir. It that all?"

"Yes. Thank you, Sable."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

"As a new species, mutants are a threat that must be addressed," Sam said, playing Ritchie. "Surely you can agree with that, Mr. President."

"Well, I'm not certain all mutants are a threat," Bartlett responded. "It was a group of mutants who stopped the take over of the El Toro base. However, I do know that mutants aren't a new species, but, rather, a sub-species. That means they're just as human as anyone else."

"Woah, woah, you can't say that, Sir," Toby said.

"Why not? It's true."

Toby turned to Sable. "What are you talking about?"

"There was a paper in yesterday's JAMA that Abby made me read. Two separate studies proved that mutants are a subspecies. It's a good article. You all should read it."

"I have a copy here, if anyone wants to read it."

Bartlett eyed Sable critically. "I'm sure you do. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Sorry, Sir, we had an agreement."

"Are you saying that you wrote the paper?" Josh asked.

"Along with Doctors Moira McTaggart and Hank McCoy, yes."

"Your information's correct?"

"Hank double checked my work, and Moira came up with the same answer. Yeah, it's accurate."

"But is that a safe answer?" C. J. said. "Anti-mutant sentiment is pretty high."

"How about this. 'Given the new evidence that mutants are a subspecies of humans rather than a completely new species, I think the matter requires more thought and study."

"Sable? Is that you taking the middle ground?"

"On this issue, he's not going to get elected with anything else," Kenny said, interpreting for Joey, a deaf pollster. "We know he won't condemn mutants, nor should he. The neutrality of that answer is the best we can do."

"You know, it is my answer. Don't I get a say?" Bartlett asked.

"No," was the resounding answer.

Leo came into the room, handed a note to Bartlett, then whispered in his ear. Bartlett read the note, heaved a sigh.

"Eight Israeli Thunder fighters—which are also known as American-made Boeing F15E Strike Eagles—just hit two terrorist bases in the north and south of Qumar. Even though no Qumari government personnel or institutions were destroyed, Qumar, of course, considers an attack on its soil to be an act of war. So we are, yet again, one bad bottle of Tequila away from all-out war in West Asia. Would you like to take this one or shall I?"

"Uh, no, I'll let you," Sam said warily. "I'll just get the next one, shall I?"

"Okay. Do we have a secure link, Leo?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I agreed to be locked up here with you people for forty-eight hours. How much time do I have?"

"Forty-seven hours, forty-one minutes."

"Wonderful," Bartlett said dryly.

Sable threw the basketball, missed horribly.

"Well, it's nice to see that you can't do everything perfectly."

"Who can?"

"What is it with you and the mutant thing? Why are you so gung-ho against the Registration Act, and discrimination?" Josh asked.

"Put yourself in their place. How would you like government keeping that close an eye on you?"

"They do," Sam said. "Driver's license, social security number, Federal ID…"

"But you don't have any restrictions as to where you can move, what you can do, where you can go. If this act passes, that would all change for mutants. Having second thoughts?"

"That attack on El Toro. It wouldn't have happened if that act were passed."

"Don't think so? You think that someone who's willing to fire a missile on innocents would go along with the act, would allow himself to be registered? Not likely. The ones who stopped him, though, they may be curtailed by the act, if they followed it. Personally, I wouldn't, no matter that I'm a law-abiding citizen."

"Why not?"

"Does my employer need to know if I can heal from any injury, as long as it doesn't kill me? Not really. That's none of anyone's business."

"But don't they need to know if you can read thoughts?"

"Do they? They have no way of knowing if someone has the ability to hack into personnel files. Why should they have knowledge of whether or not I can read minds? Especially if I don't use it."

"Why wouldn't you use it? If I could read minds…"

"You're taking a walk, when you see a door wide open. You know for a fact that the family's gone. What do you do?"

"Call the police."

"But you don't go in yourself? You don't walk in and snoop around, maybe take something? Why not?"

"It's wrong. It's an invasion."

"So's walking into someone's head without their consent. Just because someone has the ability, doesn't mean they use it."

Toby, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. "Are you telepathic?"

"No. I can, however, heal from any injury. Think the President needs to know that about me? I don't."

"You're a mutant. That's the reason you're against the Registration Act."

Sable fired the ball to Toby, putting enough extra oomph in the throw that he grunted when he caught it.

"I'm against the Registration Act because it's wrong," she snapped, then stalked off.

"Will you let Toby apologize?"

Sable didn't look up; she'd heard the President before she could see him. She'd taken the break to find a secluded, private spot to cool down; she'd been upset at Toby for the rest of the day.

"There's nothing for him to apologize for. I overreacted, that's all."

"The great psychiatrist, overreacting?" Bartlett said, sitting down next to her.

"I'm only human, Sir."

"Yeah. I spoke to the head of the NSA, today. They want to put together a mutants defense task force."

"I'm not surprised. They want a military man to head it up?"

"They already have someone in mind. General William Stryker."

"Either the NSA is planning on a pre-emptive strike, or the good Colonel's got them snowed."

"You know him?"

"I've had the displeasure. He hates mutants. He'd rather see them dead."

"I can't not let this task force be created."

"No, but you could put someone with a more opened mind in charge."

"Like you?"

"Actually, I was thinking Fitz. But, I'd take it."

"What kind of military experience do you have?"

"I learned strategy at my father's knee. He's one of the most brilliant military minds alive today."

"I don't know of any Drakul in the military."

"I changed my name when he made it clear he wanted nothing to do with me."

"Because you're a mutants?"

"Yeah."

"Who is he?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does matter. It matters to me."

"I know. That means a lot to me."

They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

"I'll see what I can do," Bartlett finally said. "But, we may have to live with Stryker."

"Not everyone will."

"Yeah. Sometimes, being the President sucks."

"Just when you can't do anything about the plane."

Bartlett gave Sable an appraising look. "Qumar's reopened the investigation."

"So that's what all the tension's about."

"I'm going to have this hanging over my head the rest of my life."

"How do you feel about it?"

"I should have handled it differently. But, that's how I reacted, and Heaven knows it's not the worst thing I could have done."

"No? What is?"

"Nothing."


	7. Game On

Sable nodded. She was with the President, having just finished up what she thought would turn out to be the last one she had with him.

"I think I'm done here."

"You mean I'm not crazy?"

"You never were. You just had some stress you couldn't handle on your own."

"I told you…"

"Yeah, and that's bullshit. Maybe I'm not done here; you seem to have not learned a damn thing."

"Do you really mean that?"

Sable smiled back. "No. Just a parting shot, before I go back to New York."

"I don't recall telling you I'd let you leave when we were done."

"You don't need me here, anymore, Sir."

"Stryker's going to head up the task force. I talked to him, and I don't like him. But, there isn't anyone else I can offer. I tried your name, but the NSA doesn't think you're qualified, mainly because of your sympathetic view of mutants. I need another opinion, an expert opinion on mutants. You're wrong, Sable, I do need you. I want you as a senior advisor. Will you take it?"

Sable took a deep breath. She wanted to go home, reconnect with Logan, join the other X-Men. She admired the Professor, would do anything for him, even give up her life. He was a man that commanded respect and a distant sort of love; as good a person as he was, his higher way of thinking and huge intellect made him distant, to some extent. Bartlett, on the other hand, was immediate. He needed her, and Sable realized that she'd do anything for him, even give up her life. Or take one, if that's what was needed to protect him. He, too, commanded her respect and her love, but what she felt wasn't distant at all.

"I'm honored, Sir. If this is what you need from me, it's what I'll do."

Bartlett looked relieved, and pleased. "Thank you, Sable. I know you want to go home, and I'm sorry to have to ask you to stay. But, this is an important time. We have the chance to dictate how America deals with mutants, and I need good people to give me the right information. You're good people."

"Thank you, Sir, that means a lot to me. Are your ready for tonight?"

"Bring him on. I'm ready."

"Good."

"You want to be there?"

Sable grinned. "If I'm a senior advisor, I'd best be ready to spin, huh?"

"That's the attitude I want. Leo's meeting with the senior staff. Get in there."

"Yes, Sir," she said, standing. "Thank you, Mr. President."

She left the Oval Office, passing by Mrs. Fiderer. "Good morning, Mrs. F."

"You seem to be in a fine mood. Going home?"

"Nope. I've just been made a senior advisor."

"Congratulations. You know the rules?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Sable took a scrap of paper and a pen. "My e-mail address. If one of the other senior staff members get it, I want it, too."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Thanks."

Sable went to Leo's office, stepped in through the open door.

"Two minute drills, all day. Five of them, and one on the plane."

"Right. Is that all?" Sam asked.

"No, there's one more thing. Sable is no longer the President's doctor, she's now a senior advisor. Keep her in the loop. If you know it, she needs to, as well."

"I'm going to be helping with mutant affairs. I don't want to step on any toes; you're still in charge in most areas. I just need to know what's going on, in case there's a connection to the mutant thing you don't see."

Toby nodded. "We'll be glad to have you. Ready to spin tonight?"

"You know it."

"Then we're good."

"Toby, get her an office in the communications bullpen. Think you've got one?"

"I'll find her one. Good choice; I want her close."

"There you are. Be ready to leave at noon, people. Sable, welcome aboard."

There was a chorus of "Thanks, Leo," as they all left.

"I thought you wanted to go home," C. J. said.

"So did I. But, how am I going to tell him no? A chance to help shape America's policy on dealing with mutants…Besides. How could I tell him no?"

Josh grinned. "She's got it, too."

"What's that?"

"An overwhelming desire to not let him down," Sam said. "To help him be the best President this country's seen in decades."

"Yeah. Sounds about right. So, tell me about this debate. What do I need to do to prepare?"

"Follow me, and I'll tell you while we get you an office," Toby said.

"Sounds good."

Sable was settled in her new office. It was just across the bullpen from Sam's, a good spot. She'd shut the door, was staring at the phone, trying to convince herself to pick it up, when there was a knock.

"Come in."

The door opened and a young man stepped in. "Dr. Drakul? I'm Josh, your new assistant."

Sable looked up. "Assistant? What the hell do I need an assistant for?"

"Getting people on the phone, doing research, getting you documents, that sort of thing."

"Oh. Well, I guess that could come in handy. You got speed dial on your phone?"

"Uh, yes. Why?"

Sable wrote down a phone number. "That goes on the first one; it's the number for the school I used to work at. When I tell you to get me the school, I need you to do it without delay."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Hmpf. Call me Doc. Everyone around here does, anyhow." She handed Josh the number. "And get me the school."

"Yes, M…Doc."

"Thank you, Josh."

He left, shutting the door behind him. Wow, Sable thought, it was a lot easier to call the school when someone else was dialing the number. A moment later Josh opened the door again, poked his head in.

"The school on line one."

"Great. Thanks."

Josh nodded, then left, shutting the door behind him again. Sable picked up the phone. "It's Sable. Is Prof available?"

There was a moment of quiet. "Darlin'? I was told we had a call from the White House."

"Yeah. I've been made a senior advisor to the President. He needs someone to help him with mutant policy, and he asked me."

"An' ya couldn't say no, huh?"

"This is an opportunity…Naw, I'm not gonna lie. I couldn't tell him no, Logan, I respect him too much. He really wants to do the right thing, and I can help him with that."

"Yeah. Gonna be able t' come home on th' weekends?"

"Probably not so much. We're not even going to be back from the debate until tomorrow morning, and we'll spend the weekend spinning. Is Prof available?"

"Yeah. He gonna get reelected?"

"It depends on who shows up. The President of the United States, or Uncle Fluffy. If the boss shows, he's gonna blow Ritchie out of the water and it'll be all over."

"Right. I'll put you through t' th' Prof. It's a good gig, Angel. I'm gonna miss ya, is all."

"I'm going to miss you, too, Logan. You're the only reason I hesitated."

"Yeah."

There was a moment of quiet, then the phone was picked up. "Bey. You have some news?"

"The President doesn't need me as a doctor, anymore. But, he's named me a senior advisor. I took the job, Professor."

There was a moment of quiet. "Is this the right thing to do?"

"Yes, Sir. The NSA has created a Mutant Task Force, to deal with threats like Magneto, headed up by Stryker. The President wants someone who's going to tell him the truth, to balance whatever info he gets from Stryker. He knows me, knows I'll tell him the truth, good or bad. It's a chance for someone mutants can trust to help dictate policy. It's the right thing."

"Is that the only reason you're doing it?"

"No. I'm doing it out of a sense of loyalty. I won't let him down, won't abandon him when he needs me. That's the biggest reason I'm staying."

"Good," the Professor said, and Sable could hear the approval in his voice. "You'll do right by him, then, and by humanity. All of it. Stay in Washington as long as you need to. And, good luck with the debate, tonight."

"Thank you, Professor."

He hung up and Sable followed suit. She took a deep breath and let it out in a happy sigh. Then, she went to the door and opened it.

"Josh."

"Yes?"

"I need a copy of the proposed Mutant Registration Act. I want the exact language."

"I'm on it."

Sable returned to her desk. She could get used to this.

Sable stood outside the green room, waiting for the President. She was trying her hardest not to fidget, and failing miserably.

"Is anyone else nervous?"

"We all are," C. J. said. "It's a natural state of being during a deb…"

"Charlie!" Bartlett bellowed, rushing out of the room. His tie was cut in half, the loose piece was in the First Lady's hand. She was grinning, swinging the thing around.

"Thirty seconds," the stage manager called.

Charlie spun to Josh as the group moved towards the stage. "We need your tie."

"What…?"

"Take it off!"

"What happened?"

"My wife cut it off."

"Why?" Josh asked, pulling off his tie.

"I don't think we have that kind of time."

"You're needed at the stage. We've got fifteen seconds," the stage manager called.

Somehow, Sam managed to put Josh's tie around the President's neck and tie it as they rushed through the hallway towards the stage. The group made it there just in time.

"With that, ladies and gentlemen, President Josiah Bartlett of New Hampshire, and Governor Robert Ritchie of Florida," the moderator said.

There was applause as the two stepped up on stage, Bartlett slapping his wife in the rear as he walked by her. Sable shook her head.

"I'm working in an insane asylum," she muttered. "What the hell was that?"

"His lucky debate tie got ruined in the cleaners," The First Lady told her. "It was an emergency replacement from Josh, when the President burned the tie he was wearing with a cigarette."

"So, an emergency replacement from Josh, and he's got a new lucky tie."

"Yep."

"Come on," C. J. said. "Let's get backstage.

Sable followed the others to the spin room, where there were reporters, spin doctors, and TVs all over. The staff huddled together to watch the opening salvo.

The moderator began speaking. "The rules for tonight's debate are as follows: A candidate will be asked a question by one of the panelists, and he will have 90 seconds to respond. His opponent will then have 60 seconds with which to ask a question and get an answer-- though it must be limited to the same topic. There will be two minutes for closing statements at the end. By virtue of a coin toss, Governor Ritchie, the first question is for you."

"Governor Ritchie, good evening."

"Good evening."

"There are two major philosophical differences between you and President Bartlett. One of them centers around the mutant issue, but I'm going to leave that for someone else. The other one is over the role of the federal government itself and whether national problems really have national solutions. Can you explain your view?"

"Well, first, let me say good evening and thank you. It's a privilege to be here. My view of this is simple. We don't need a Federal Department of Education telling us our children have to learn Esperanto, or Eskimo poetry. Let the states decide. Let the communities decide on health care, on education, on lower taxes, not higher taxes. Now, he's going to throw a big word at you—'unfunded mandate.' If Washington lets the states do it, it's an unfunded mandate. But what he doesn't like is the federal government losing power. But I call it the ingenuity of the American people."

"President Bartlett, you have 60 seconds for a question and an answer," the moderator told him.

Sable watched on the TV without breathing. This would be the proof, this would tell them how ready for this debate the President was.

"Well, first of all, let's clear up something. 'Unfunded mandate' is two words, not one 'big word.'"

Everyone working for the President cheered backstage, except for Sable. It was a good start, but he could still screw it up, could still self-destruct.

"There are times when we're fifty states and there are times when we're one country, and have national needs. And the way I know this is that Florida didn't fight Germany in World War II or establish civil rights. You think states should do the governing wall-to-wall, and that's a perfectly valid opinion. But your state of Florida got $12.6 billion in federal money last year—from Nebraskans, and Virginians, and New Yorkers, and Alaskans, with their Eskimo poetry. 12.6 out of a state budget of $50 billion, and I'm supposed to be using this time for a question, so here it is: Can we have it back, please?"

"Yes! That's my boy!" Sable said, grinning.

"Oh my God."

"Game on!"

"Anyone want spin?" Sam called, getting a loud response.

"It's not gonna be Uncle Fluffy," C. J. said.

Sable shook her head. "No, it ain't."

"Governor Ritchie, can you explain your stand on the mutant issue?"

Sable shifted. "Here it is."

"My stand is simple. As a new species, mutants pose a serious threat, and must be kept track of, if not separated from humans completely."

There was applause from the audience, more than Sable would have liked to hear.

"Mr. President?"

"There it is. That's the ten-word answer my staff's been looking for for two weeks. There it is. Ten-word answers can kill you in political campaigns. They're the tip of the sword. Here's my question: What are the next ten words of your answer? What are the ten words to respond to the fact that mutants are _not _a new species, but a sub-species, and are just as human as the rest of us, as proven by over a dozen studies? What are the next ten words, what happens after we learn that we can't inter them? What are the next ten words to the fear that the road of registration and interment will lead to a new holocaust, and new concentration camps? And what are your ten words to the statement that this is just not right? Yes, some mutants pose a threat, as we've seen with Magneto. But, there are those who are willing to risk their lives to protect normal humans. They are human, and we must treat them as such. It's the right thing to do, the only thing."

There was applause, louder than it had been for Ritchie. Sable shook her head. He hadn't gone for the neutral answer, and she loved him for it, even as it concerned her that he may have shot himself in the foot.

"Mr. President, your closing statement?"

"Governor Ritchie is all for the Mutant Registration Act. So are a lot of people. But, have you ever thought that you may very well have friends who are mutants, even though you don't know it? And why is it so important to know it? A person's sexual orientation or religion aren't any of our business, why should this be? Because you're afraid. But no one thinks we should know if someone is a retired cop, or was once a Navy SEAL, even though those people could pose a threat. I just added someone to my staff, someone who happens to be a mutant. I certainly didn't hire her because of that, but I didn't hesitate to hire her, either. I've had a good few months to get to know her, to learn to trust her. I hired her because she's an expert in her field, because she's kind and helpful, and because she has no fear about telling me the truth. Not all mutants pose a threat, and I know this from personal experience. The young lady who covered me at Rosslyn took four bullets that would have killed me. She didn't do it to get famous, as evidenced by the fact that only a handful of people know who she is, and she's asked us not to tell. She did it simply because it was the right thing to do. Because she had the ability to save a life. She didn't care that I'm not a mutant, she only cared about keeping me alive. Those are the mutants we need to keep in mind when we develop a policy to deal with them. We cannot punish people before the fact, and we cannot punish a whole group of the population for what a few have done. It's not right for any group, and that includes mutants."

The applause was thunderous. Could it be? Sable wondered. Could he actually have gotten through?

"Guys, I know I'm not the political expert, but, as a voter, I have a suggestion," she said.

The other staffers turned to look at her. "What is it?" Sam asked.

"I hate people telling me what to think, and what he's said tonight stands on its own. Besides, Ritchie's down for the count, and there's no reason to hit him again. Let's not spin. Let's not say anything except that the President's returning to Washington tonight."

They looked at her, stunned, saying nothing for a moment.

"It's something no one's ever done," Toby said.

"It would be elegant. It would be taking the high road."

"And, with the nature of the last question and his closing, we shouldn't tell anyone what to think, but let them figure it out on their own. He got through to a lot of people tonight. And that's just here."

Toby clapped Sable on the back. "Good call, Doc."

"It's the psychologist in me. Look, think about something over the weekend; I'd like to bring it to the President Monday."

"What's that?"

Sable looked around, saw that everyone else was caught up in the chaos of reporting and getting opinions and no one was paying attention to them. "I want to come out."

"What?"

"He mentioned me, everyone's going to be wondering who the mutant is, and I think we should tell them. I think this is a perfect opportunity to give people a solid, tangible example of a normal mutant."

"We'll discuss it. Come on. Let's make that statement, then get rip-roaring drunk."

Sam grinned. "Sounds damn good to me."

"Sable's the designated driver!"

"Like that's anything new," she said dryly, then grinned. It was a good night.


	8. Into the Lion's Den

A/N Between the holidays, illness, and one heck of a writer's block, this took a lot longer to get out than I thought. But, here it is, and I'm already working on the next installment.

Sable settled into the chair and pulled out her cell-phone. The President had kindly let her use his office on Air Force One, so she could talk in private.

After a just a couple of rings, the phone was answered. "Sable, congratulations. He did a wonderful job."

Sable grinned. "Thank you, Ororo, it was a good night. Is the Professor there? I need to talk to him."

"He is right here."

"Sable. Well done."

She laughed. "Are you kidding? I told him to go for the neutral answer, and look what happened. I had nothing to do with it."

"That was an impressive closing statement."

"Yeah, it was."

"You want to come out."

"I think it's the best thing to do, and I think the rest of the staff will agree. There's only one thing holding me back. The ramifications for the school."

"We can handle that. A simple statement that I hired you for your skills, and never asked one way or another. It is true, after all, that I never asked if you were a mutant."

Sable laughed again. "No, Sir, you didn't. You just knew. The senior staff and I will discuss it this weekend and, if we agree that it's a good idea, we'll bring it up to Leo and the President Monday. It'll probably be announced same day. I want to move fast, before rumors start hurting people."

"I agree. Congratulations. You'd best rejoin the party."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you."

Sable went back to the rest of the plane and the party.

The senior staff were in Leo's office before their meeting with the President. He finished with his last item, then looked up at the serious faces.

"What else?"

Everyone turned to Sable. She took a deep breath, and dove in.

"I want to come out."

Leo blinked. "You mean you're.No, you mean as a mutant."

"Yeah. I think it's the best thing to do. People are going to want to know who Bartlett's mutant is, and I think we should tell them. Let them see me, see how normal I really am."

"What do you think?"

"It's not a bad idea," C. J. said. "The press already know her from her updates on the President's health and like her. They'll be kind. Well, kinder than they'd be to one of us."

"You're thinking interviews?"

"It's the best way to let people get to know me."

"Right." Leo thought for a moment, sighed. "Yeah. It's a good plan. Let's bring it to him."

"Thanks, Leo."

They took the party into the Oval Office. Sable listened to everything, but didn't have any reason to comment, and so stayed silent. Finally, the rest of the business was done.

"Anything else?"

"Yes, Sir," Sable said. "People are going to want to know who your mutant staff member is. I think we should tell them."

Bartlett studied her for a moment. "Yeah?"

"I think it's better than letting rumors run rampant. I think it'll be a huge step in the right direction."

"Do you all agree?"

They did.

"How would you go about it?"

"We'd leak it to a couple, three reporters. Then, tomorrow, we'd schedule a press conference with Sable."

"Like you did with my thing." Bartlett sighed. "Give me ten. Is _that_ all?"

"Thank you, Mr. President," everyone said, leaving.

"Sable."

Sable turned and went back into the office.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Bartlett asked, holding out a hand to a chair as he sat down.

Sable took the hint, and the seat. "I'm nervous. I'm afraid of what this could mean for me, for you, for mutants in general."

"I'm fine. They can't impeach me, not for this. No laws were broken."

"I could lose you the election."

Bartlett snorted. "If I'm going to lose the election over this, it's already done."

"You want me to, don't you?"

"I want you to be able to. You shouldn't have to hide, any of you. I've had a couple of low-level staffers come to me, tell me how much they appreciated what I said, how much they appreciate knowing they don't have to hide, at least from us. It should be like that."

Sable smiled, relieved. "Thank you, Sir."

"Tell C. J. to leak it after her morning press conference."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you Mr. President."

Sable got to the door of the office, then turned. "Sir? If you want me to do this, why did you give me the chance to back out?"

"I needed to know that you want to."

"Thank you, Mr. President," she said sincerely, then went to find C, J. She found her just as the other woman was leaving her office for the press room.

"It's a go," Sable told her.

"Okay. I'll call back Mark, Angie, and Sheryl. They're due for a leak."

"Press conference the day after tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I can help you prepare."

"If you think you have to. Just remember, I'm the shrink, here. I know how to ask-and answer-questions." They reached the door to the press room. "Mind if I watch the feeding frenzy?"

"No. It is your story, after all. Just be gone when I bring them back."

"I will. Thanks."

Sable stopped at the door to the press room, but C. J. went in and over to the podium. She gave her briefing, then went to questions.

"Mark."

"C. J., who is the mutant staff member the President mentioned in his closing statement at Friday's debate?"

"I know when he mentioned her, Mark, but thanks for reminding me. The White House has decided that the decision to name her is hers alone. We're waiting for her to decide whether or not she's comfortable doing that. Bill?"

"When is she going to make that decision?"

"I don't know, and I'm not going to speculate. Is there anyone who has a question that deals with something other than whether or not she will come out, or when she will make the decision? Veronica?"

"Why did the President mention her?"

"To make a point, which he seems to have done. That's a full lid. Mark, Angie, Sheryl, I need to talk to you about seating assignments on Air Force One."

Sable left, heading back to her office, but was stopped by Leo.

"Doc. Walk with me."

"Sure, Leo. What's up?"

"You've got an appointment at two o'clock, this afternoon. On the Hill."

"Oh?" Sable said, warily. "With whom?"

"Senator Kelly. He's trying to get the MRA out of committee."

"So you're sending me?"

"You're the shrink."

"I'm also the mutant and, by two o'clock this afternoon, he's going to know that. I'll be walking into the lion's den, and his secretary won't let me in the door."

"Threaten to call me. Or the President. Doctor, you're not trying to back out of this, are you? Get him to back off, and I'll owe you a concert and dinner. Steak at Marco's."

Sable grinned. "Godsmack's in town, tonight."

Leo's face paled. "You're kidding."

"Yeah, actually. Not that I wouldn't like to go, but the Philharmonic doing Ravel is an acceptable substitute, and more your speed."

"We'd have to leave from here."

"I'll send Josh to get me a dress."

"You're going to send the Deputy Chief of Staff."

"Not him, my assistant Josh. Hmm, this is going to cause problems. Two o'clock on the Hill, it is."

"I'm not expecting to have to pay up."

"You should. I'll back him off," she said, sauntering back to her office.

"Doc," Leo said dangerously. "Be nice."

"The soul of courtesy," she called back.

Sable made it to her office. "Josh," she bellowed, sitting down behind her desk and beginning to search it.

"What's up, Doc?"

Sable didn't look up. "That is so not funny. What's your last name?"

"I already told you."

"Obviously I don't remember so, tell me again."

"Andrews."

"Drew it is."

"Pardon?"

"You share a Christian.er.Jewish name with the Deputy Chief of Staff. Given that he was here first, I hereby baptize thee Drew." She took her bottle of water and lightly splashed him with it. "So shall it be."

He stood there a moment, blinking. "You never looked up."

Sable was still sifting through the papers on her desk. "Should I have? Ah ha! I knew it was here, somewhere."

"You people are crazy."

"So are you."

"You don't know me well enough to make that determination."

Sable finally looked up, grinning. "You were hired. Someone thought you'd fit in here. In order to fit in here, you have to be at least a little bit crazy."

"So you've called me in here, changed my name, and thrown my sanity into serious doubt. Is that all?"

"See? Already with the witty banter, and you've only been here a few days. No, that's not all." She tossed the newly named Drew a key. "Go to my place. I need the black Versace, with silver trim, no back, and the slit up to here."

"State Dinner's not till Saturday."

"I'm going to the Philharmonic and Marco's tonight."

"On a date? With who?"

"No date. I'm going with Leo."

"Your boss?" Drew shook his head. "Crazy," he sighed, turning towards the door.

"Drew?" Sable said dropping the joking tone. "It really is all right, you know."

"For you. You're his friend," Drew replied, then left.

Sable sighed, then turned back to the papers she'd found. One more time through the MRA. She wanted to be ready for Kelly.

"Can I help." The secretary stopped as she looked up and saw who it was. "Oh," she said with distaste.

"I have a meeting with Senator Kelly."

"He's had to cancel."

"Then he should have had you call the White House. Please let him know Dr. Sable Drakul is here to see him."

"I know who you are," the secretary said with a sneer. "Your kind isn't welcome here."

"Well, I guess that's it, then," Sable said, pulling out her cell phone. "Excuse me while I call President Bartlett and let him know that I'm being prevented from conducting his business. I'll just be a minute."

The secretary's face went white. "I'll let the Senator know you're here, Doctor."

Sable smiled pleasantly and dropped the phone back into her pocket. "Thank you."

The secretary made the call, then put the phone down and stood.

"If you would follow me."

She led Sable to an office. "Senator? Dr. Sable Drakul."

Kelly looked up, then stood. "Thank you, Anne. Please, Dr., come in."

"Thank you, Senator. It's a pleasure to meet you," Sable said, moving into the office to shake Kelly's hand. He looked startled. Sable smiled wryly.

"What? Surprised that my hand feels.normal?"

Kelly mirrored her smile. "You found me out. So, you really are the President's pet mutant."

"There'll be a press conference the day after tomorrow. Feel free to have one before that."

Kelly frowned. "You want me to beat you to the punch?"

"Easier for me to rebut any misinformation you spew."

Kelly looked at her appraisingly. "You're not as ignorant to the ways of Washington, after all."

"I have two Doctorates and a Master's and am a senior advisor to the President, all before my twenty-fifth birthday. I'm not stupid, Senator."

"No, and I never thought you were. Why are you here, Doctor?"

"Don't push too hard to get the MRA out of committee."

Kelly laughed harshly. "Is this the President's request, or yours?"

"I'm not going to lie, I don't want this bill to pass. But, neither does he. Even if you don't agree that it's wrong-and I don't expect you to-you must see that it is inherently flawed."

"How so?"

"The bill calls for a mandatory jail term for noncompliance. Tell me something, Senator, how would you go about capturing Magneto?"

"We would find a way. Perhaps use other mutants."

"And who in their right mind would expect mutants to help you enforce this bill? Senator, please listen to me. Magneto and those who follow him would see this as the opening salvo in a war between mutants and normals, and would react accordingly. And that would be one war you cannot win."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. It's simply the truth."

"Why do you care? We're just inferior normals, ready to be culled by the new species."

"You don't listen real well, do you? Mutants are a sub-species, not a new one. I know enough normals to have come to respect and admire you. And to believe that the world would be poorer for your absence."

"And here I thought you just wanted to control the President," Kelly said dryly.

Sable laughed. "That's not my in my repertoire. Besides, I don't think that even the strongest telepath in the world could control that man. He is the strongest-willed, most stubborn, contrary, and ornery patient I've ever had the pleasure of treating. And he sure isn't any better as a boss."

Kelly looked at her, startled, then smiled. "You say that without bitterness or anger."

"It's all a part of why I'm here. God knows I'm not in D. C. because of the prestige or power. Hell, I would have been happier as his doctor, not having to do these meetings, not having to play politics."

"Then, why did you take the position?"

"Because he needed me more as a senior advisor, and I love and respect him far too much to have said no. I'm not here to shape policy-though it's part of what I do, now-and I'm not here to play politics, or gain power. I'm here for him, and that's all. I'm here for a normal Homo Sapien, because he's earned my loyalty more than any mutant I've ever met. We're not what you think. Not all of us."

"But some are, Doctor. Some are."

"Oh, yes, and I'd be happy to see them behind bars. But you normals aren't going to be able to get them there by yourselves, and I don't deserve to join them. One different gene does not make me guilty."

Kelly sat in silence for a good long moment, looking through Sable. Finally, he shifted.

"I'll back off, but only because you're right. It is flawed. I'm going to hold a press conference tomorrow, calling for the President to fire you. You don't belong here."

Sable stood, as did Kelly. "I think my performance so far speaks against that. But, that's all right. We don't want to shut you up. Thank you, Senator."

They shook hands. "I'm not doing it for you, or the Administration."

Sable grinned. "You think I don't know that? You are doing it, though. Take care, Senator. We'll be doing this again, before the next four years are up."

"If he gets them. I almost hope he does; I look forward to sparring with you again."


	9. Pony Up

"Doc!" Toby called. "Doc…Leo, where the hell is Doc?"

"On the Hill."

"With whom?"

"Kelly."

"You sent Doc to see Kelly? He'll chew her up and spit her out."

"Do you really believe that?"

Toby paused a beat. "You sent Doc to see Kelly? She'll chew him up and spit him out. The guy doesn't stand a chance."

"I'm not sure about that, either. I see a stalemate in our future."

"You sent our big gun—hell, our biggest gun—and you don't think it'll work? Why not just send Josh?"

"It was the President's call. He thought it was about time she got a taste of how things really work. She'll be able to handle failure."

"Are you sure she'll fail?"

"We'll find out…" Leo paused, listening. "What the hell…Margaret! What the hell is that noise?"

Leo's secretary poked her head into his office. "That's Doc, coming this way. She's singing."

"What is she singing?"

"I think it's 'Hail the Conquering Hero'."

Leo groaned. "Tell her she can come in. If she stops with the singing!"

"Do you want me to leave?" Toby asked.

"No, you can stay."

The noise did stop, as Sable came into the office. "Pony up, Boss. He's backing off."

"How the hell…"

"I appealed to his higher sensibilities," she said, loftily.

Leo looked confused. "I didn't think he had higher sensibilities when it came to this."

"He doesn't," Toby said. "She told him the bill was flawed."

"That 'bout sums it up. Looking forward to tonight."

Toby frowned. "What's tonight?"

"Dinner at Marco's and the Philharmonic," Leo said. "I promised her, if she got Kelly to back off. Ravel? I can't quite picture you as the Ravel type."

"No wonder you didn't want her to win," Toby said.

"I have a wide range of interests. Not trying to back out, are you, Mr. McGarry?"

"Hardly. Ready at six." He nodded to the Oval Office. "He wanted to see you when you got back."

"Right. Six it is."

"Yeah, yeah."

Toby walked out with Sable. "You have a dress to wear?"

"A Versace."

"And you're going to follow that up Saturday with what?"

"A dress a friend made. I'm saving the best for the State Dinner."

"A friend made…"

"She's working for one of the top fashion designers in the world, now. She's got a knack for working with cloth, like I've got a knack for not getting killed. Wait'll you see it, it's amazing."

"It'd better be. Got a date?"

"Nope."

"I thought you'd be going with that one teacher. You know the one; your height, built like a tank."

"Logan. Yeah, well, we were never really a thing, and we certainly aren't, now; he's really not the Washington type. If he came, there would be a lot of trouble. I'm here."

"I need to see you when you're done."

"Right. Hey, Mrs. F. He wanted to see me when I got back."

"Go on in," Mrs. Fiderer told Sable. "A rousing rendition, by the way."

Sable grinned "Thank you, Ma'am." Sable knocked on the door to the Office as she opened it a crack. "You wanted to see me?"

"Are you done singing?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then you can come in. 'Hail the Conquering Hero'?"

"Leo expressed doubts in my ability…Kelly's backing off, and Leo's taking me to dinner at Marco's, then to see the Philharmonic."

"Yeah."

"He's also going to do a press conference calling for you to fire me."

"Leo?"

"Kelly."

"Oh. He's going to get in before your press conference?"

"I told him to. That way, I don't have to have a second one to rebut his bull shit."

Bartlett shook his head. "You should consider a career in politics. You do things just differently enough, it may work out."

"I'm only here for you, Sir. Once you're out of D. C., so am I."

"We'll see about that. I think Toby was bellowing for you a minute ago."

"I've seen him. I'm talking to him next."

"Good. Good job, Sable. I'm meeting with Stryker tomorrow, you'll be there?"

"Of course."

"All right. Talk to Toby. And enjoy your night out."

"I will. They're doing Ravel."

"Ah. Bolero."

"Yes, Sir. I've heard they do a great performance of it."

"I'll see you tomorrow. Eleven, after the staff meeting."

"I'll be there. Thank you, Mr. President."

Sable left and made her way towards Toby's office. As soon as she stepped into the hall leading to the communications bullpen, Josh and Sam pounced on her.

"So? What happened?"

"I showed him that it's flawed. He agreed to back off for now, until he can work that out."

"He backed off?" Josh said, amazed. "You didn't…?"

"Bite your tongue!" Sable snapped. "Besides, I can't do that."

"Is he going to hold a press conference?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? He's going to steal your thunder?"

"No, he's going to give me more to talk about. Look, the guy's full of misinformation. By spewing it tomorrow, before my press conference, he's giving me the perfect opportunity to rebut him. It all works out very well for me."

Josh and Sam both stared at her for a moment, mouths hanging open.

"Run for President," Josh said. "I'll work for you."

Sable laughed harshly. "Right, a woman President who's also a mutant? I don't think the world's ready for that."

"They will be. Let me know. Whatever I'm doing, I'll drop it for you."

"Me, too."

I smiled. "Thanks, guys, that means a lot. But, I'm not a politician. Once Bartlett's out of office, I'm going home. Look, I need to see Toby."

"Yeah, go. We'll see you later."

Sable stepped into Toby's office. "Tobias Zeigler. You wanted to see me?"

He looked up. "Yeah. I'm eating it on the President's remarks for the State Dinner. I was hoping I could get some help."

"What about Sam?"

"He's working on remarks for the National Summit at Ellis."

"Josh?"

"He's not a writer."

"Neither am I, Toby. I'm a doctor."

Toby reached down to the floor, brought a stack of half-a-dozen magazines up and dropped them on his desk. "Who wrote these papers?"

The magazines were all JAMA—Journal of the American Medical Association—except for the one Science. "I did."

"You speak well, you sing well, and you write almost as well as me. You communicate well, and that's what I need. Can I get your help?"

"Yeah. Yeah, but not for long. I've got a meeting with Babish at five."

"Babish? Why?"

"Leo's taking me to dinner and a concert, and everyone knows I'm a mutant. I'd like to know what recourses I've got."

Toby sighed unhappily. "Yeah."

"So, let's get started. Remind me, who's coming for dinner?"

Sable left Toby's office in a good mood. It had been fun working on the President's remarks, and they'd broken through Toby's writer's block. There was more to do, but the dinner wasn't for another couple of days, so they had time, yet.

She made her way down to Babish's office. When she'd first come to Washington, she had been certain she'd never learn her way around the maze of hallways that was the White House, and had been just as certain that she'd never want to. But, here she was, navigating the place like an old pro, hoping with all her heart that she'd have another four years to be here.

"President," she muttered. "The two of them are crazy."

Sable stepped into the large front office where Babish's secretary had her desk. He looked up and frowned as Sable came in.

"Dr. Drakul. I'll let him know you're here."

"Thank you." Sable went over to sit in one of the chairs while the secretary made the call. While she waited, he watched her with a look Sable knew well. She ignored it. If he had a problem, he could say something. If he wasn't brave enough, she'd let him stew in his own juices.

The door to the inner office opened after about five minutes and Babish came out. He glanced around, his gaze stopping on Sable. She stood and walked over.

"Dr. Drakul," Babish said, meeting her halfway to shake her hand. "It's a pleasure. Please, come in."

"Thank you, Mr…"

"Please, call me Oliver."

"Then I'm Doc," she said, following him in.

He shut the doors behind them, then moved behind his desk, taking a seat. "Doc?"

"It's what everyone's taken to calling me," she said, sitting down herself. "It started when I was treating the President."

"Ah, yes. I'm curious. How does one go from being the President's personal physician to senior advisor?"

"Well, first you have to be an expert on mutants. Then, the President has to come to the realization that the person who's going to be giving him advice on dealing with them will give advice skewed towards more…militant ways of dealing with mutants."

"Ah. Stryker. I haven't heard much about him."

"He hates us with a passion. He's worse than Kelly; Kelly just wants us out of the way. Stryker wants us dead. Every last one of us."

"That's not good. I've got a daughter who's a mutant; Karen Babish."

Sable grinned. "I can't believe I never made the connection. Next time you talk to her, tell her I said hi. I know she was planning on teaching up there."

"American Lit. You went to Xavier's school?"

"And practiced and researched up there, after I graduated from college."

"Have you told him about it, yet?"

"Not the particulars. Not yet; Prof isn't ready for it."

"You'll have to, someday."

"I know. I will, when I have to. I don't work for Xavier, any more."

"Well, you didn't come here to talk about the school. What's on your mind?"

"Leo's paying on a bet, tonight, and taking me to Marco's. You know how elite the place is."

"And everyone in D. C. knows you're a mutant by now. Who leaked?"

"C. J. She wanted time for us to prepare for the repercussions."

"It worked with the MS. I've been looking at laws for you today; I figured this was coming. You could claim the ADA…"

"The Americans with Disabilities Act? It's a characteristic, like your brown hair. I'm not going to do that, I'm not going to demean it like that. I'm not ashamed of it."

"Then why are you still wearing your sunglasses?"

Sable looked at him a moment, then took them off. "You've got a point, there. No ADA, Oliver."

"Okay. I didn't like it, either. Discrimination laws, then. Can't discriminate on the basis of race, color, religion, sexual orientation, or genetic condition. That last was added for medical insurance, but it doesn't specify. If anything happens, you can tell them that it's illegal, and you'll call the Justice Department and have them take care of it."

"All right, that's what I needed. Thanks, I mean it."

"That's what I'm here for. Feel free to see me any time. I like your problems; they're easy."

"For now. Wait until Kelly outlaws us, then we'll have fun. I've got to get ready."

"Go. I hear Leo's a real party animal."

Sable laughed. "Yeah, whatever. Take care, Oliver."

Sable went back to her office, found the Versace hanging up behind the door when she closed it. She closed the blinds, then changed and put her hair up, leaving just a few strands hanging down in front of her ears. All in all, it only took fifteen minutes.

She was just finishing with her hair when the phone rang. She picked it up.

"Doc here."

"It's Charlie. You dressed, yet?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"They want to see you in the Residence, before you go."

"I think I've actually got time…"

"I've already called Leo and told him to meet you there."

"I've got time. I'm on my way."

Sable hung up and left her office. "I'm leaving. Beep me if you need me, but if you do, I'll kill you."

"Right, Doc…Wow, you look great."

"Thanks, Drew. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Have a good night."

Sable went to the Residence and up to the Bartletts' room. The Secret Service Agent on the door knocked, poked his head in and said something, then straightened. "Go on in, Doc."

"Thanks." She stepped into the room. "You wanted to see me?"

Mrs. Bartlett stood, smiling. "Jed told me you had a date and I wanted to see what you're wearing. You look wonderful."

Sable smiled. "Thank you. It's not a date, though, Leo's just paying up on a bet."

"Ah. Who did the dress?"

"Versace."

"Very good taste. Are you ready for it?"

Sable didn't have to ask what the First Lady meant. "I've already talked to Oliver. It's against the law to discriminate against genetic conditions, which pretty well covers me."

"That's not what I meant."

Sable heaved a sigh. "I don't know. I've been able to pass; wearing my hair long to hide my pointed ears, and sunglasses to hide my eyes, I can pass easily, and have for most of my life. I've never had to deal with it."

"You're a very brave woman, Sable. I can't tell you how much I respect you for this."

"Thank you, Ma'am. That means a lot to me."

The door opened and the President came in. "Ah, Sable, you're here. Is that really appropriate? You're showing a lot of leg, there."

"That's the point, Sir."

"Kids, nowadays. You look great. You took off the glasses?"

"There's no reason to hide, now."

Bartlett nodded. "Yeah. You going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine, Sir. 'That which does not kill me,' and all that. Given how difficult to kill I am, I'm pretty strong, by now."

"Good." There was a knock on the door. "Yeah?"

"Mr. McGarry's here," the agent said.

"Right. She'll be right out. Have fun, Sable. I hope it goes well for you."

"Thank you, Sir."

Mrs. Bartlett gave Sable a hug. "Have a good time. Leo's great company."

"Thank you, Ma'am. I'll see you tomorrow, Sir."

Sable stepped into the hallway. Leo was at the end, back to her, looking out the window.

"I'm done, Leo."

He turned, mouth open to say something, but stopped dead. Sable went over to him, one eyebrows raised.

"Is something wrong?"

"I've never seen your eyes, before. They're beautiful."

Sable smiled gratefully. She'd never heard that from a normal, before. Of course, few normals had ever seen them. "Thank you."

"You look lovely." Leo held out his arm. "Shall we?"

Sable took his arm. "We shall."

"What did they want?" he asked, leading her to the car.

"To make sure I'm ready, should I run into any discrimination."

"Are you?"

"I've passed most of my life. Of course not. I'll be okay, though."

The driver held the door open for them and they slid into the limo.

"We don't have to do this. We could go somewhere quiet, watch some movies, if you'd rather."

"I'm not going to run away from this, Leo. I'm a mutant, people know it, they're just going to have to deal. I can handle their small-mindedness."

"Good. I just realized, I know nothing about you. Who are your parents? Do you have any siblings? Where did you go to school? College?"

"I went to a private school, the same one I was working at when you tapped me to help him. I went to college at Oxford, graduated Magna cum laude."

"You didn't answer my first questions."

Sable was quiet for a moment. "My mother's dead. My father may as well be, as far as I'm concerned; he made it clear he didn't want anything to do with me once it became clear I was a mutant. I had an older brother, but he's dead, too."

"I'm sorry. No family. It must be hard."

Sable grinned. "The folks at the school have become family. Well, some of them, anyhow. It's a tightly knit group."

"And now you're down here."

"I don't regret it. I was doing good work up there, but I'm doing good work here, too."

"You are. Just by doing this, if nothing else."

"There'll be more. Kelly won't hold off forever. When that bill comes back it'll come out of committee and when that happens, there's going to be a war."

"What can we do?"

"The administration's standing behind me. That's a lot, right there."

"Yeah. We going to talk business all night, or what?"

Sable laughed. "So. Read any good books, lately?"

Leo and Sable chatted until they got to Marco's, and were let out by the driver. Leo offered her his arm again and she took it gratefully.

Marco's was busy, as always, but there were advantages to working for the President; they'd made room for Leo. He led Sable to the door, both of them ignoring the stares from passersby.

"Hello, Anton. I made a reservation earlier," Leo told the Maitre d'.

The man looked from Leo to Sable, then back. "I am sorry, Mr. McGarry, but your companion…"

"You can talk to me, Anton," Sable said.

"This is an elite restaurant, Ms. Drakul."

"It's Dr. Drakul. Are you saying I'm not welcome here?"

"This is an elite restaurant. I am sure you understand."

"Of course I do," she said. Leo was impressed; if she was angry, he couldn't tell from the easy tone of her voice. "I understand that you are saying I can't come in. However, I see black and hispanic customers, as well as one I know is gay."

"We cannot break the law."

Sable moved closer to the podium. "I spoke with Oliver Babish, today. Do you know him? He's the White House Chief Counsel. He assured me that, along with race, religion, color and sexual orientation, the anti-discrimination laws also include genetic conditions. If you don't believe me, I'll call the Justice Department and double-check with them."

Anton looked at her for a moment, then swallowed. "Perhaps I could speak to Marco…"

"Remind him that I was good enough for this place last weekend, will you?"

Anton turned to the inside of the club. He got Marco's attention, and the owner came over. He took a look at Sable and his smile fell; the frown deepened as he listened to Anton.

"Well, if you will be difficult, then I guess we can let you in, Ms. Drakul…"

"It's Dr. Drakul, as you were happy to remember Saturday."

"It doesn't matter, Marco," Leo said, speaking up again, finally. "We'll go someplace else. I am going to be letting the staff know how you treated one of our own, however. I don't think they'll be coming back." With that parting shot, Leo drew Sable away and back to the limo.

"Plan B," Leo told the driver as he held the door open for them.

"Leo," Sable growled. "I was really looking forward to that steak."

"We're going to Outback. I've talked to them, and have been assured that they'll have no problem serving us."

Sable's mouth dropped. "Outback? I'm wearing a Versace to Outback?"

"That's who made that. I wondered. Is there a problem?"

Sable laughed and kissed Leo on the cheek. "You're great, Leo. Thanks."

Leo smiled. "Anytime."


	10. A Shadow and a Threat

Hey, you didn't have to wait months for a new chapter! Thanks for all the reviews. And, to answer jnp's question, Kaziglu Bey was going to be Sable's codename with the X-Men. There was going to be more interaction with them, but the story became slightly different than I'd thought. That's all right, it's better than it would have been otherwise.

"You look like someone who had a good time, last night."

Sable looked up at C. J. and smiled. "I had a wonderful time."

"How was Marco's?"

"Don't know. I had to strong-arm them to let me in. Leo decided it wasn't worth it; he'd already made contingency plans."

"I know." C. J. dropped a newspaper on Sable's desk, then took a seat. "You're on the front page. You wore a Versace to Outback?"

"It was Leo's idea, I had nothing to do with it." Sable looked at the picture. "At least they got my good side."

"Do you have a bad side in that dress?"

"Mmm, no, not really."

"You're going to have to come up with quite a number for the State Dinner."

"I've got a worthy follow-up."

"So, you got turned away at Marco's and, if that report was right, you were hit with comments all night. That doesn't sound like a good time to me."

"It was the company. And the fact that Leo cared enough to make sure I'd get my dinner out, no matter what. He was great about it." Sable shook her head. "I've passed most of my life. I expected it, but still…"

"It was nice having Leo there to offset it? He's a great guy, sticks up for his people. Let's hit Leo; it's almost time, anyhow. We'll discuss the press conference, there."

"Sounds good."

C. J. and Sable moved through the bullpen, picking up Toby and Sam as they went.

"Nice picture in the paper," Sam said. "I can't believe you didn't show me the dress."

"I didn't know you wanted to see it."

"You're showing that much skin, and you didn't know I wanted to see it?"

"Oh, of course, I should have. Sorry. I won't make that mistake again."

"Good."

"Did you have a good time, anyhow?" Toby asked.

Sable grinned. "Wonderful, thanks."

"Hey, guys. Doc, you looked fantastic last night."

"Thanks, Josh."

"Did you have a good night?"

"Very, in spite of everything."

"Good morning. You can go in," Margaret said, as they approached. "Nice dress, Doc."

"Thanks, Margaret."

They stepped into the office. Leo nodded to everyone.

"All right. The President's meeting with Stryker today at eleven, at Stryker's request. Doc, you're going to be there?"

"Planning on it. Stryker won't like it."

"He doesn't have a say in the matter. What else?"

"We're moving Doc's press conference up to four o'clock tonight. Kelly's having his at noon, and I don't want to wait overnight to counter any claims he may make."

"Is that all right with you, Doc?"

"You're the political experts. Whatever you say."

"Good. Where are you going to have it?"

"Over at the OEOB. The room's bigger, and we're going to have reporters from around the world. As soon as you're done, I'm going to come in with a statement from the President, assuring them that he stands behind and supports your decision. He wants it clear that you have his full support."

"Add something to that, C. J.," Toby said. "Make it clear that she also has our support. They need to know that, too."

There were murmurs of agreement from everyone in the room. Sable smiled.

"Thank you, guys. I can't tell you how much that means to me."

"Now that we've had our warm fuzzy moment, let's take it to him," Leo said, smiling.

They moved into the Oval Office. Bartlett looked around at them and nodded.

"Looks like everyone's getting along. Stryker at eleven, he wants to go over ideas on defense. I'll have Doc here to save me from his skewed opinion. What's next?"

"We're having the press conference at four tonight. I want to get in right after Kelly."

"Sounds good. You know my remarks?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm also going to add that Doc has the full support of the Senior Staff, as well."

"That's good to hear. Anything else?"

"Like that's not enough?" Sam said.

"The man has a point. That's it, get to work."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

Everyone left but Sable. "He'll be here soon."

"Yep. Have a seat, you can wait here. A Versace to Outback?"

"It was Leo's idea. It was the backup plan, in case what happened at Marco's happened."

"Yeah. I'm sorry. You're all right?"

"I am. I wouldn't have wanted to be alone the first time, but having Leo there, so concerned that I have a good time regardless, it was all right. I'll be fine, now. It didn't hurt like I thought it would."

"You weren't angry?"

"No. No, actually, I felt pity for them, and their closed minds."

"You'll be fine. I'm glad. Ready for the press conference?"

"I am."

"They'll ask how the American people can know you're not controlling me."

"I'll tell the truth. That's all I can do."

"You're ready for Stryker? I know you odn't like him."

"No, but I don't hate him, either. He's just one more small-minded person to pity."

There was a knock on the door and Charlie poked his head in. "He's here, Sir."

"Send him in."

Sable and the President stood, Sable moving to the doors to the portico, looking out. Let the President greet Stryker first, before introducing her.

"General Stryker," Bartlett said. "Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for seeing me."

"This is Dr. Sable Drakul, one of my senior advisors."

Sable turned and approached, offering her hand. "General Stryker."

"I know who you are," Stryker said, not meeting her eyes and ignoring her hand. "Mr. President, are you sure it is wise…"

"I always like to get two opinions on any issue. Please, General, have a seat."

They all sat down. "I meant here, in the White House, Sir," Stryker clarified. "On your staff."

"She hasn't let me down yet. Well, General. What information do you have for me?"

"I've heard rumors, Sir, about Magneto. That he's planning something. Something big."

"Damn. Are you sure?"

"No, Sir. That's why I need permission to take a few mutants into custody and interrogate them."

"Who?"

"I don't habe names yet, but…"

"You don't know hwo you want to arrest? What were you planning to do, take mutants at random?"

"Well, I…"

"Then you may as well start with me," Sable said. "I couldn't tell you a thing, but you wouldn't be any worse off if you just dragged a random person off the street."

"Any mutant should know…"

"Just like any Irish should know what the IRA is planning? Fully twenty percent of the population is mutants. Contrary to what you seem to think, General, we don't all know each other."

"I have to agree with Dr. Drakul. Unless you can give me names and probable cause, I can't allow this."

"Stryker frowned. "If that is _your_ decision, I'll get the information you require."

The three of them stood. "Thank you, General. Keep on this; if Magneto's up to something, we need to know what. But, we need to play by the rules."

"I will, Sir," Stryker said, shaking Bartlett's hand. "Thank you, Mr. President."

Stryker left. Bartlett watched him go.

"He wasn't happy."

"No, Sir. I don't think he was lying about the rumors, but there was something else there."

"Do you have a way of checking on these rumors?"

"I don't, no, Sir."

"Then talk to the people you know who do." Bartlett turned to look at Sable. "Was he pretending not to know you, or did he not recognize you?"

"He didn't know me," she said, with a wry smile. "There would have been a reaction if he had; he thinks I'm dead."

"You going to be okay?"

Sable smiled at Leo. "I'll be fine, Boss. Thanks."

"Good. Go get 'em."

Sable walked out onto stage and stood behind the podium. The press were all clamoring for her attention.

"Be patient, I'll get to you all, eventually, just wait your turn. Let's start with CNN. Mark?"

"What's to say that you're not unduly influencing the President?"

"Right with the bomb, huh, Mark? Look, nothing I can say will satisfy anyone who believes that to be the case. Telepathy isn't in my repertoire, but there really isn't any way of proving that. All I can say in my own defense is that one, even if I were telepathic, I respect people's right to choose too much to control anyone. And, two, I doubt there's anyone who could control the President in any case. He's too stubborn and onery to give in to something like that."

The reporters laughed, and the mood suddenly lightened, became less confrontational.

"Diane?"

"You're a mutant and the senior advisor on mutant affairs. How can you give the President unbiased advice on this matter."

"The fact is, I can't. But, no one could give unbiased advice, not on this matter. Everyone in the country has made up his or her mind, one way or another; I don't think you'll find anyone who would answer 'undecided' on a poll. Yes, the advice I give the President has a decidedly pro-mutant rights bent. But, I also advise him on how to deal with mutants like Magneto. I know that there are mutants out there that pose a threat; I've certainly treated my fair share of them. I just believe that we can't punish people for what they could do, or a whole people for the crimes of a few."

"Do you believe that because you're a mutant?"

"I believe it because it's what America is all about. Innocent until proven guilty. I believe the same thing about African-Americans, and Hispanics, and Native Americans, and Caucasians, and every other group, ethnic or otherwise, in this country. You in the back, on the end; I'm sorry, I don't know you."

"William Asagawa, Tokyo News. Speaking of Magneto, what is your view of him?"

"He's a terrorist, pure and simple, and he should be dealt with accordingly. Andrea?"

"What do you have to say to Kelly's demand that you be fired?"

"Well, I certainly didn't expect instant acceptance. Senator Kelly has expressed his opinion—which he has every right to. But, it's not his decision. Andrew?"

The press conference went on for hours, though Sable quickly lost track of time. Finally, though, she finished, and C. J. went back up to voice her statements of support.

"Ready to go home?" Leo asked her.

"Yeah."

"I'll give you a ride."

"Thanks, but I'd rather walk."

"Yeah, I guess so. You did good up there tonight, Sable. That wasn't an easy thing."

"Thanks, Leo. Night."

"Good night."

Out on the street, there were quite a few people out. Most ignored Sable, or gave her dirty looks, but a few nodded or smiled.

"Dr. Drakul."

Sable paused, let the person who had hailed her catch up. She recognized him as Mike Taylor, a freshman Republican Representative that she'd met once, at some official function or other.

"Representative Taylor," Sable said as they shook hands. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"Can I walk with you?"

"Certainly."

They walked in silence for a moment, Sable not saying anything, seeing that he was nervous. Finally, Taylor spoke.

"I haven't heard from my younger sister in ten years. We were always close, but she just cut off contact. I never knew why. She called tonight, during your press conference. She'd been afraid I would hate her. I probably would have, then. But, there's not a person who's met you who doesn't respect you. Even Kelly does. And, well, it was a good conversation. I just thought you should know. You've gotten through to at least one person."

"Thank you. I'm glad to hear it."

"No, thank you," he said. They shook hands again, then he quickly moved off.

Sable smiled wryly—heaven forbid a Republican should be seen with her—then she grinned Even if Taylor's story was the only one of its kind to come out of her press conference, it made what she was going to have to go through all worthwhile.

Sable went home, thought about calling the school, but decided to wait until the next day and go to sleep, instead. She was emotionally drained, though she was happy with how things were going.


	11. Another Threat

A/N Well, due to illness and real life taking over, this took a lot longer than I wanted it to. But, finally, it's done! Thanks for all the reviews! To jnp, I'm not sure, but I think it's going that way, especially after this chapter. And to Philip S, I was still planning on doing X2, X1's going to be there, but it may change as I write. These characters certainly have a life on their own.
    
    And, a reminder, just in case anyone forgot. I don't own anyone but Sable *sigh*. If I did, you wouldn't be reading this, but seeing it on TV.

So, without further ado, let's continue the story.

Sable was, as usual, walking to work. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed; there was no way she was going to make this call from the office phone.

"Bon jour…"

"Magneto, up to something, know anything?"

"An' you be who? Gambit don' answer jus' no one's questions."

Gambit? That was a new name. Sable vowed to take a side trip to the school while they were up in New York; it was, apparently, time to get to the school and meet the newbies. "It's Kaziglu Bey."

"Oui, Gambit know dat name. We don' know nothin', Chere. Mais, we lookin'. An' lis'nin'."

"That's something, at least. Thanks, Cajun. Tell Prof that Stryker's looking, too."

"Oui. Wolv'rine tell me t' say tu look tres bien, t'other night."

"Tell him thanks for me. Gambit is it? Nice to meet you."

"An' tu."

Sable hung up the phone and dropped it into a pocket, never missing a step. The X-Men and Prof were on it. Sable wondered how much good it would do.

The phone calls and e-mails started that day. Sable didn't take all of them, but she got a fair number of each. She kept phone calls short, trying to get some business done, but she read all the e-mails, especially the negative ones. By lunchtime she had half a dozen that she'd printed out.

"Drew!"

He was there quickly. "Yeah?"

"Get Ron Butterfield, invite him to lunch, my treat. Here, in my office."

"You're with Leo, today."

"Damn!" Sable thought for a moment, then heaved a sigh. "Ron, lunch, Leo's office."

"Right."

Drew left. Sable picked up her phone and hit speed dial, then waited.

"Yeah?" Leo asked.

"Change in plans. Lunch is in your office, with Ron."

There was a pause. Then: "Any particular reason?"

"Don't let the President know, huh? I don't want him flying off the handle. Or you, either, but you would've asked why I was canceling."

"Yeah. You don't sound worried."

Sable paused, surprised. "Should I be?"

"No, that's fine. I'll worry enough for the both of us."

"I really wish you wouldn't. I'll be down in a few minutes."

Sable put the phone down, looked up to see Drew. "Well?"

"He'll be there, though he had an early lunch. Should I be worried?"

"Naw. I'll let you know when you should be. Thanks."

"No problem. Is it really all right?"

"Yeah."

"Can you get me some time with Leo?"

"Of course. It'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"That's fine. Thanks, Doc."

"Not a problem." Sable got to her feet. "I'm off."

"I knew that."

Sable laughed, grabbing the e-mails she'd printed. "Everyone who knows me knows that. Keep any calls about the Press Conference to two minutes. If anyone with real business actually makes it through, take a message."

"No, I'll just leave them on hold 'til you get back. Enjoy lunch."

Sable laughed again, but, this time, there was no humor in it. "Ri-ight," she said, then left.

When she got to Leo's office, Ron was already there. Sable closed the door behind her, then dropped the stack of letters onto Ron's lap as she settled into a chair.

Ron counted the sheets. "Six? That's all?"

"No, those are just the one I find credible."

"Death threats?"

Sable turned to Leo. "You going to worry?"

"I'll worry whether or not you tell me. Those are death threats, aren't they?"

"Yes. Want a first impression, Ron?"

"I'll take it to our profiler. I know you're good, but we don't work with the target like this. You understand."

"It's a good policy," Leo said. "How many Agents are you assigning to her?"

"None," Sable said.

"You can't be serious. Ron, tell her. She needs protection."

"No, she doesn't," Ron said thoughtfully.

"Ron!" Leo yelled.

"You didn't see her injuries after Rosslyn."

"How badly were you hurt?"

"I took four bullets, that would have killed anyone else. I don't want an agent on me. There's no point in someone dying for me when I can't be killed."

"I don't think we should advertise that fact," Ron said. "SOP is to assign someone like you protection. Besides, these are credible, you said so yourself. If we don't react properly, someone may think we aren't taking him seriously, and may up the ante. Just to make himself come across as a threat."

"Damn."

"Something wrong?"

"Yeah. I can't argue with logic that good. One agent, who is told not to risk their life for me, and the rest of your energy goes to security. We can't have another shooting."

"We can't lose you."

"You won't, Leo. I'm too hard to kill."

"Just so your agent and I know, is there anything that can kill you?"

"A grenade, perhaps. Obviously, I don't know for sure; I haven't tested that theory. I'd say a nuke would probably do it, too."

"Right. We'll just work on increasing security." Ron stood. "I'll have your agent up here by the end of the day."

"Thanks, Ron."

Ron left. Margaret took advantage of the open door to bring in their food, then she disappeared, as well.

"You'll have to talk to him, you know, and the staff. A Secret Service Agent's going to be pretty hard to explain."

"Yeah, I know. This must be yours; I ordered the pepper steak."

"Thanks. Toby says you don't have an escort for the State Dinner."

"Toby talks too much."

"He was surprised. You could get any guy in the place to go with you."

"Even the President?"

Leo laughed. "Him, not so much. You really should have an escort. I happen to be free that evening…"

"I'll be fine, Leo."

Leo studied her a moment. "Don't shut us out, Sable."

She looked up sharply. "Do you have any concept of what it would do to me if something happened and one of you died? It would kill me, Leo. It would be so stupid, without point…"

"Tell him, then tell the staff. And trust us to make the right decision."

"You know, for the first time in my life, I'm scared. Truly scared. I'm not used to it."

"But you're so hard to kill."

"Not for me, Leo, for you. For him. For the staff, and anyone else who may be caught in the crossfire. You're not so hard to kill."

"Yeah."

They finished eating in silence, each deep in their own thoughts.

"You still haven't answered my question," Leo said as they cleaned up the remains of lunch.

"What question?"

"Are you going to let me escort you to the State Dinner, or what?"

"Since it appears you're not going to take no for an answer…"

"Then it's settled. Go talk to him."

"I'm going, I'm going. Look, my assistant wanted to talk to you. Let me know when you've got five."

"Do I really need to?"

" 'Fraid so."

"Send him to me when you get back to your office."

"Right. I'll see you, Leo."

"Be careful."

"You too, huh?"

Sable left, went to the Oval Office. "Hey, Charlie."

Charlie looked up and smiled. "Doc. You need to see him?"

"If he's free."

"Let me check." Charlie knocked and stuck his head into the room. "Sir? Doc's here to see you."

"Send her in."

Charlie stepped back. "Go on in."

"Thanks." Sable went in. "Hello, Sir."

"Doc. Have a seat." They each sat. "Toby says you don't have an escort."

"Is there anyone who doesn't know?"

"Charlie's a fine young man."

"It's been taken care of."

"Yeah? Who?"

"Leo."

"Leo, huh? I know why you're here; Ron was just in. He needs you to sign a paper in order to get the protection, which I just happen to have right here. I've also got a pen."

"Of course you do," Sable said dryly, taking the items and signing the paper. She handed both to Bartlett. "There. Happy?"

"Yeah. Worried?"

"Not for myself, no. But, we all know what can happen to those caught in the crossfire. Ron's not doing anything else for my protection, since I really don't need it, and is concentrating on general security."

"He'll keep me up to date. You're not planning on skipping work, or anything like that, are you?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," she said, though the thought had crossed her mind. "I'll be here."

"Good," Bartlett said knowingly. "You're going to tell the staff? They'll want to know."

"I'm going to see them, next."

"I won't keep you much longer, then. Have you talked to anyone?"

Sable understood the change in subject. "They've heard, but they don't know anything for certain, yet. Unfortunately, he has a way to hide from them. They're not giving up, though."

"Keep me posted. Go talk to the staff."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Mr. President."

Charlie was gone when Sable left the Oval Office. She headed to the staff offices, finding them all empty. She found out why when she reached her own; everyone was there, including Charlie, Donna, and Drew.

"News travels fast around here," she said, closing the door behind her. "I guess it's safe to assume you've all heard."

"It's never safe to assume around here," Sam said.

"But in this case, you'd be right," Toby said. "Leo let us know. You're not going to shut us out, are you?"

"I'd love to. I'd love to distance myself from all of you until this thing was over. What it would do to me, to have one of you die…But, I guess you're not going to let me, huh?"

"You're family. You're not going to go through this alone. Some of us have been there, after all," C. J. said. "No, we're not going to let you."

"Thanks. I do appreciate it, guys, really."

"They'll get the guy," Josh said.

"As long as it's before he hurts anyone, I'll be happy. Look, I've actually go work to do, so…Oh, and, Drew? Leo will see you now."

They all left, pausing a moment to offer kind words to Sable before they walked out. Sable went to her desk and tried to go through some e-mails, but had a difficult time for the tears in her eyes. Having been rejected so violently by her father, it was still difficult for her to expect her friends to stand by her like this.

"Doc?"

She looked up to see someone she knew. "Jared," she said smiling. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm going to be in charge of your security detail. I need to take your computer, and we'll be intercepting all e-mails from those addresses. May I?"

Sable stood and moved aside. Jared sat in her chair. "I'm glad it's you."

"There are three others; three shifts a day and one a week off. Ron did right by you; none of us are normal. You won't have to worry quite so much about us."

Sable grinned. "That's a relief. Ron moves quick."

"We've been ready for this since it leaked. We knew it would happen."

"You guys are good. How close are you going to be?"

"Very. You can put your car up; you'll be taking ours."

"I walk to work."

"Not anymore."

"Jared…"

"We're doing things by the book, Ma'am. Ron's orders."

Sable sighed. "Yeah." This was going to be a long…Well, however long it lasted, it was going to seem longer.


	12. Of Freaks and Psychos

A/N: Sorry this took so long, but I need a break to figure out where I was going. I now know, so the next chappie shouldn't take quite so long.

Chapter 11: Of Freaks and Psychos

Sable took the dress out of the closet. Leo should have just left the White House, which gave her plenty of time to slither into her evening gown and finish her make-up. There was a knock on the door, followed with a, "Doc," from Brian, her bodyguard of the day. Even though it was one word, Sable could hear the strain and worry in his voice.

"What's wrong?"

"Get dressed. Someone's got Leo."

"Shit." Sable threw her dress on the bed. "Who?" she asked, reaching for a suit.

"The note was signed. 'Mystique'?"

"Fuck!" Sable grabbed a pair of jeans, a halter, and her boots. The professional wouldn't be able to deal with that threat, but Goth Girl was quite capable. In less than a minute she was dressed and on her way down to the car.

"Get Ron," she snapped at Brian.

"Yes, Ma'am." He dialed on his cell, spoke a few words, then handed the phone to Sable.

"Talk to me, Ron."

"He'd just left to get you, when the driver's body was found, with a note."

"What's the note say."

"Not until you get here, Doc."

"It's for me, isn't it?" Sable said, getting into the car. "What does it say?"

"You're going to go off after him…"

Brian got into the car and started it, then pulled into traffic.

"Do you know who Mystique works for, Ron? Magneto. Damn straight I'm going after him, because you guys can't win. Now. What. Does. The. Note. Say?"

Ron took a deep breath. "Doc, this is our job."

"Do you have people who can fight Magneto, or are you just going to try to use guns?"

"We'll do what we can…"

"Yeah, that's what I thought. What about Sabertooth? You can't even take me down, and he's tougher than I am. Can you beat him."

"Doc…"

"That's what I thought. Tell me what the goddamn note says, Ron, and let me do what I do best."

There was a slight pause. Then, "'If you want your Chief of Staff back, come to where you first met the President. We'll be waiting.' It's signed, 'Mystique.'"

"Yeah, that's what Brian said. I'll get in touch when it's all over."

"Right. Don't hang up. He wants to talk to you."

"Yeah."

There was a pause, then Bartlett was on the line. "Doc, you're not going to do anything stupid, are you?"

"No, Sir. I'm quite an intelligent fighter."

"Don't do this. Let Ron and his men do their job."

"With all due respect, Sir, they can't do it this time. Sometimes, the only person who can fight a mutant is another mutant."

"Yeah."

"I'll bring him back, Sir. I promise."

"If anyone can, it's you. Sable, be careful. I want you to come back, too."

Sable grinned cockily, even though he couldn't see it. "Don't worry, Sir. I'm better than that. I'll let you know when it's over."

"Right."

He hung up, Sable following suit.

"Rosslyn, Brian. We're going to the Newseum."

"Why there?"

"She told me they have Leo where I first met the President."

"Wouldn't that be GW?"

"No. Not enough room for a good, knock-down, drag-out fight. Besides, technically, that's where we first met, even if we didn't get around to introductions. Go as fast as you can, Brian, and call in the others. Drew, also."

Brian took his phone back and called Jared, who agreed to call Sheryl, Paul, and Drew. Sable sighed. Six people to face down Magneto and Sabertooth, and she was vulnerable to Magneto.

The drive took far too long, though she knew that Leo would be all right until she got there. This wasn't about Leo, it was about her. But why, after so long? Magneto had been gone from the school for years, only contacting her once asking her to join him. Was that what this was all about? Was he going to try to bribe her into joining him?

But, there was another worry, one she tried to push away, hoping it wasn't a real concern, knowing it was. If Sabertooth was there, she would have to go feral. Full, "I'm the best at what I do, and I'm gonna throw down on your ass," mode. How would Leo react to seeing her like that, the perfect killing machine? He'd only seen Goth Girl once, the first time she'd gone to treat the President. Since then he'd only known Doc, the professional, the scientist, the Senior Advisor to the President. Did he even remember this side of her existed?

But, he'd see it in spades, and so would the baddies, if they'd hurt him. She didn't know where her relationship with him was going, didn't care right now. He was a friend, a good friend, part of her newly extended family, and she protected—or avenged—those she cared about. Sable smiled, a wholly evil look. She'd learned a lot from Logan, including his Samurai sense of honor.

After a good long time with her dark thoughts, they pulled into the Newseum's parking lot. They waited and, within five minutes, the others had all joined them.

"Right, let's see what we're up against. Drew, you're up."

Drew, a clairvoyant, went into a sort of trance. It took almost five minutes, but, finally, he came out of it.

"They're in the auditorium. Right now, they're all on stage. Leo's almost off-stage left, with a blue-skinned woman. There's a guy with white hair in armor center stage. Right next to him is a tank, who looks like a human cat. And, backstage, there's a hunch-back with long legs and arms."

"Magneto and Sabertooth center. Mystique's with Leo, and Toad's backstage."

"Don't you people have normal names?"

"Screw you. Right, the four of you are in charge of getting Leo out of there. That's all you're for, got it? Drew, you stay here. Get him back to the White House as soon as he gets out here."

"What about you? You can't take them all out on your own."

"Watch me. Sheryl, keep a bead on me, just enough so you know when to move. Make sure it's Leo you've got; Mystique can mimic someone perfectly, and there may be a decoy."

"Right."

"Brian, keep your shields up as long as you can. Paul, make sure he's okay. Jared, you know what to do."

"Let's do it."

Drew returned to Jared's car, while the four Secret Service Agents went around to the side entrance. Sable went to the front doors, which she found to be unlocked, and went right on in.

She'd never been to the Newseum, but the stage was centrally located and easy to find. She went through the doors that led to the floor, then strode down towards the stage.

"If you wanted to see me, Eric, all you had to do was ask."

Magneto's attention was fully on her, as was Sabertooth's. Sable gave Sheryl the go, then gave the other mutants her full attention.

"I did not think you'd come, if I asked."

"Yeah, well, you're probably right. But, kidnapping someone I like isn't the way to get on my good side. You should know that by now."

Magneto straightened. "You're willing to do this? You're willing to fight for a people who hate and fear you, who would rather see you dead?"

"Let me think…um, yes. They're not all bad people, you know."

"They will do to mutants what the Nazis did to the Jews."

Sable sighed. "Eric," she said, voice filled with sorrow and pity. "Eric, you've never left Auchwitz. You're fighting the right battle, but in the wrong way. Don't you understand? You've become the very thing you hate so passionately."

"I am not like them!" Magneto roared, and the metal seats rattled.

Well, so much for the cell phone, Sable thought. "You want to kill normals indiscriminately. Sounds like genocide to me."

"I want to protect mutants."

"And that's a noble goal, to be sure. Hell, I want to protect us, too. But, you can't do it like this. Why kill the normals who are sympathetic?"

"You cannot change my mind, Sable, you've tried."

"Yes, and you've tried to change mine, and failed just as miserably. So, whatever you plan on doing, just do it, already."

"I could kill you."

"Maybe. Maybe, my healing factor could keep me alive. Regardless, I bet it would hurt like hell."

Sable could feel something, tugging at the adamantium that had been bonded to her skeleton. It only lasted a minute, then.

"You were like a daughter to me."

"Yeah. Can't do it, can you?"

"No," Magneto said, voice filled with pain. Was it because he wanted to do it, or because he couldn't, Sable wondered. "No, I still can't."

They looked at each other, the two old friends, now enemies. Sable thought about all she'd been through; it had been Eric who had found her, who had needled Logan into helping her deal with her mutations, Eric who had helped her understand that mutation was normal, and her father had been wrong, oh so wrong, to try to kill her, Eric who had sat with her when she'd had nightmares about her father finding and killing her. For just an instant, she hoped that maybe, just maybe, enough of that love remained that he would let them go.

But, his face hardened, turned to hatred, and she knew. The Eric she'd known was dead, all that existed, now, was Magneto. She mourned the loss of a good man.

"But, Sabertooth can," he said, and turned to go backstage.

Sabertooth grinned a feral, predatory smile. "Hello, twerp. Miss me?"

Sable glanced at Leo. "I missed beating your ass, that's what I missed," grinning like she was about to enjoy this. She was almost surprised to find that she was looking forward to it. Apparently, Leo wasn't the only one who'd forgotten this side to her.

Sabertooth leapt with a roar. Sable roared herself, met him in mid-air. Blood flew as claw-like fingernails dug into flesh, ripping and tearing. They fell to earth, each getting in one last strike before separating, only to go at is again.

When Sable had walked in, Leo found himself shocked. He'd forgotten this side of her, it had been so long since he'd seen it. Why had she come looking like this? Then, he glanced at Sabertooth. The man was an animal, living for the kill, that much was evident in his eyes and the way he smiled like everyone he looked at was his next meal. Was Sable prepared to fight him?

Leo pushed the thought away. Of course, she wasn't, she was a doctor, and wouldn't hurt a fly. She didn't have the viciousness it would take to go one on one with Sabertooth. But, then, why was she here? What could she hope to accomplish? Leo cursed. Why had she come? She wasn't dumb, she had to know this was all about her, not him.

He listened to her conversation with Magneto, slowly coming to the realization that, whatever she'd told them after watching the tape, they'd been more than just friends. When Magneto revealed the nature of their relationship, Leo was amazed and impressed by her strength. To follow her own ideals when a trusted father-figure was trying to turn her away from them…

But, Leo wasn't surprised when Magneto didn't let her go. He'd been in the latter's company for long enough to realize that he took Sable's refusal to join him as a betrayal, and he wouldn't stand for that. When he left, to let Sabertooth take care of her, though, Leo's heart sank. That left Sabertooth.

"Hello, twerp. Miss me?" Sabertooth asked, with that smile of his, like he was looking forward to seeing her body mangled and lifeless.

When Sable glanced at Leo with sorrow and apology in her eyes, he was confused. Until she grinned just like Sabertooth was grinning. "I missed beating your ass, that's what I missed," she said, and Leo's blood ran cold. Not because she was going to fight Sabertooth, but because it looked like she was just as crazy as he was.

Sabertooth roared and leapt off the stage. Sable let out an answering cry and, as much as he wanted to, Leo couldn't look away as bodies met, blood flying as they clawed each other. They fell and parted, then met again. Good God, was this really the Sable he knew and adored?

"Quite a different view of your little girlfriend, isn't it?" the blue-skinned woman said.

Leo started, having forgotten she was there, and turned to look at her. He would have responded, but he really had nothing to say and, the fact that Paul and Brian were approaching floored him. He hadn't realized Sable had come with backup.

Brian lifted his gun and fired. The blue woman fell. Below, Sable looked up, a concerned look on her face, and suffered a deep slash to her chest as Sabertooth took advantage of her distraction.

"Sable!" Paul shouted.

She grabbed Sabertooth, claws digging deep enough into his skin that fingers began to follow, and threw him back, into the seats. He fell with enough force that it should have broken his back, but he stood, even if he was a bit dazed.

Sable turned back and Leo watched the slash heal before his eyes. "Get him out of here!" she yelled.

"Are you hurt, Sir?" Brian asked.

Leo watched as Sable turned and flung herself at a still-dazed Sabertooth, slashing at his throat. She was grinning, not the feral grin of a predator defending itself, but the grin of someone who was truly enjoying herself. Leo closed his eyes as they removed his bonds.

"Nothing first aid can deal with," he said quietly.

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah." Leo opened his eyes, but turned away from the fight, and stood. He'd seen enough, he didn't want to know anymore.

"We'll get you back to the White House, then, Sir," Paul said.

"What about Sable?"

"She told us to worry about you, first."

The four agents hurriedly escorted him to the car, where Drew sat waiting.

"You got him! Great!"

Paul slid into the back seat. "Get in, Sir."

Leo did as he was told. He was in the hands of the Secret Service, now, and would trust them. Brian slid in on Leo's other side, and Sheryl got into the front seat. Drew started the car.

"Drew, call the White House, and let them know we've got them," Jared said.

"What about you?"

"I can't fit. I'll help Sable. _That's_ my assignment, after all. Sir, are you certain you're all right?"

Leo looked up at Jared with haunted eyes. "No."

Jared nodded sadly, understanding. He wasn't telepathic like Sheryl, but he could read people. What Leo had seen wasn't easy to deal with. Hell, Jared was shocked and amazed at Sable's actions, and he wasn't even falling in love with the girl. "I'm sorry, Sir," he said, then closed the door. "Go," he called, then turned to head back into Newseum.

When he got there, it was all over. Sabertooth, Mystique, and Toad were all gone, only Mystique's blood on stage and the blood flung around the seats showing they'd been there at all. Sable was sitting in one of them, catching her breath, waiting for her numerous wounds to heal. He opened an eye when she heard Jared, saw it was him, then closed it again.

"He's safe?"

"The others are taking him back to the White House. I couldn't fit in the car, so I decided to come back and see if you needed any help."

"Naw. Sabertooth thinks I'll be so easy to take out, but he forgets that I fight smarter than he does. Mystique and Toad were still hurting too much to help him." She paused for a moment before speaking again. "How is Leo? He's not hurt is, he?"

"Physically, no."

"He's having a hard time with what he saw?"

"We all are, Doc. You were every bit as bad as Sabertooth."

"Yeah. I haven't had much chance to show that side, here. Haven't forgotten how to throw down with the best of 'em, though," she said bitterly. "I brought him back, but I may have lost him, anyhow."

"He just needs some time."

"To decide if he's going to hate me for the rest of his life or not. It's a close thing, now; I wasn't so distracted that I didn't see the look on his face. I'm not sure he'll be able to deal, Jared."

"Ron and the President will want to talk to you. Come on."

"Yeah, I'm done healing. I shouldn't get too much blood in the car. Thanks for getting him out, Jared. You guys did great."

"Just doing our job, Ma'am," Jared said, switching from friend to Secret Service Agent.

Sable smiled, but it was weak and unconvincing. Jared shook his head when she wasn't watching. She was not going to be her usual chipper self unless Leo decided he could live with what she truly was. Jared was concerned that Sable was right, that he wouldn't be able to. That wouldn't be good for either one of them.


	13. Fear and Loathing in DC

"You okay to see him?" Ron asked.

"Not exactly, but, do I have a choice?"

"Not really, no. Charlie. He wanted to see Doc when we were done with her."

"Sure. You okay?"

"Yes and no. Let him know I'm here, I want to get this over with. I need to get to bed."

"Yeah." Charlie opened the door to the Oval Office.

"Is she here?" the President asked.

"Yes, Sir."

"Send her in."

Charlie stepped back and Sable went into the room. "You wanted to see me, Sir?"

"Come on in. You look like shit."

"Thank you, Sir, I pretty much feel the same."

"Yeah. Have a seat."

"Thanks."

Sable fell heavily onto one of the sofas and sat with her arms resting on her legs, head down. Bartlett sat across from her.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Mystique killed…"

"I know how Leo was taken, where, and how your agents got him out of there. Leo won't talk about you, though." He studied her closely. "I thought the two of you were getting pretty close."

"Yeah, well, things change. He saw me at my best, and worst." She heaved a sigh. "I told you that Magneto and I had been friends, but it wasn't quite like that. He was a better father to me than my own had ever been, and seeing him like that tonight, ready to kill me…He couldn't, though."

"Did he say why he took Leo?"

"It was all about me. He wanted to talk to me, and decided to get my attention. Ask me how guilty I feel. Yeah, I know, it's not my fault, but still…When I told him, basically, to go to hell, he took off, leaving me to the tender mercies of Sabertooth."

"That's the one you told me about. The psychotic."

"That would be him. And this is where Leo's new-found wariness of—if not animosity for—me comes in. He saw me at my worst. I'm a more intelligent fighter than Sabertooth, but I fight on his level. Leo didn't like seeing me like that."

"He'll get over it. You're not hurt?"

"I'm done healing."

Bartlett nodded. "That was a stupid thing to do."

"No, it wasn't. I knew I could handle Sabertooth."

"And Magneto?"

Sable started to make some witty response, but was too tired to even try. Besides, he knew the truth, so why bother? "Not so much."

"Yeah. He couldn't do it tonight, Sable. That doesn't mean it'll be the same next time."

Sable looked up and Bartlett was rocked by the look of pain, sorrow, and sheer weariness on her face. "Do you think I don't know that?" she said, voice cracking.

Bartlett reached out and took her hand. "I'm sorry, you've lost a lot tonight, and I'm not helping. You did a great thing, and I thank you for it. Now, go home and get some sleep, and don't even think about coming in tomorrow. Leo's got the day off, too."

"Thank you, Sir."

Sable got to her feet and headed towards the door.

"Doc. Toby tells me you helped with the remarks for tonight."

"A little."

"Good job there, too."

"Thank you, Mr. President."

She stepped into the outer office and stopped; Leo was just passing by on his way out. He paused, looking at her, but said nothing.

Sable wanted to break the silence, but what she saw in his eyes rendered her speechless. Leo moved on, but Sable remained where she was, shocked. She's expected wariness, hate, something, anything but what she saw there. She drew air in then let it out in a long, shaky breath. She'd experienced anger her whole life. She thought she'd rather deal with that from Leo, than with his fear.

"Come on, Doc. You need to get home," Brian said, gently taking her hand. Sable briefly wondered where he'd come from, but didn't question, letting him take her home. Once there she took a long, hot shower, her tears mixing with the water. She'd lost her father-figure, had, perhaps, lost Leo, and hadn't even managed to kill Sabertooth as compensation. She let herself cry for a long time as she washed the blood off, then got out and went to bed.

For the first time in years, she slept poorly, plagued by dreams. Her father wasn't coming for her, however. In her dreams, Sabertooth hadn't attacked her, but instead had killed Leo, right in front of her eyes.

A/N: Sorry for the extremely short chappie, but I really didn't have anything longer to attach this scene to, and it was too important not to write. Longer chapter next time, and it shouldn't be long. My muse has returned! I promise, I'll feed her well and give her a warm place to sleep, and try to keep her around for quite a while.


	14. A Secret No More

"Anything else?"

Sable heaved a sigh. "Three dead, just because they were mutants. Isn't that enough?"

Bartlett nodded. "Yeah, you've got a point. You know, Leo…"

"Leo will come to me when he's ready."

"Maybe he needs you to make the first move."

"He's afraid of me, Sir. How can I make the first move under those circumstances?" She moved to the windows to take in the view. They were in New York City campaigning, a place she'd seen many times, but never got tired of. She was too depressed to enjoy it now, though.

"You sure you're doing the right thing?"

"No, Sir, of course not. I…" she paused, turning towards the door with her head cocked.

"What is it?"

"A bunch of people, coming this way."

The door opened and Ron led six of his best agents into the hotel suite. "We've got an emergency, security's been briefed," Ron told them, as the agents surrounded the President. "Sable, get ou…" he paused, thinking. "Sable, you've always wanted to be a deputy Secret Service Agent, haven't you?"

"Oh, yes, my life's dream," she said dryly. "Mutant, is it?"

"At least one."

"We think…"

"Quiet!" Sable hissed.

Through the closed door, they could hear loud, deep pops, each one followed by the sound of men grunting. Only Sable could tell that each one of the pops was closer to the suite. Bampf! twenty feet down the hall, grunts, then another bampf! a few feet closer and more grunts.

"I'm willing to bet there's just one; it sounds like he's a teleporter," Sable said quietly. "Keep your guns out, but don't fire. You may hit whoever's on the other side of him."

Ron shook his head. "Not good."

"Not at all." A flash of insight, one of her hunches. "Next one brings him here."

Bampf! The noise was loud in the quiet, so was the aftermath. Sable had only time to notice blue skin before the mutant knocked out two of the agents and disappeared again with another bampf.

Sable once more sensed where he was going to be and reacted instantly, throwing herself between two agents. Bampf! and she hit the other mutant square in the chest, lips pulled back from her teeth in a feral snarl, her claw-like fingernails digging into his skin to keep hold. As her momentum carried them both towards the wall, she twisted her body, putting him between her and the agents.

"Fire!" she shouted.

The agents shot but the blue-furred mutant bampfed again and the bullets hit Sable. They may not have had enough to kill her, but half a dozen agents emptying half their clips into her was enough to daze her. The mutant popped in and out, taking out agent after agent with punches, kicks, throws, and acrobatic moves. Meanwhile, Sable forced herself to her feet, pushing the pain and fogginess aside.

The mutant was going to appear in front of Bartlett. Sable leaped with a roar, her long, fang-like canines in full evidence, and hit the mutant again. They hit the floor, Sable with a cry as a knife was plunged into her chest. Another bampf! and the mutant was gone. Sable knew he wouldn't be back.

Sable rolled over to prop herself up against the wall.

"Someone get this thing out of me."

Ron came over and, gently as he could, pulled the knife out. Her heart's blood started to flow, but quickly stopped as the wound healed before their eyes. "Hey, guys," she asked the waking agents. "How many times did you all hit me?"

There was a chorus of numbers, none lower than eleven.

"Nice shooting. If you'd hit him with those, he'd be dead. Look at the knife."

There was a ribbon tied to it that read, "Mutant rights now!"

"Something isn't right," Sable murmured.

"We'll get down to the bottom of it. Sable, did the bullets exit? Do you know?"

"This isn't the first time I've been shot. Or the second, for that matter. Some did, but there's still a bunch there."

"Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"I know where they are; I can dig them out myself."

"You will use anesthesia, won't you?" Bartlett asked.

"No point, my metabolism's as fast as my healing factor. Drugs, alcohol, medicine, none of it does a damn bit of good. Or bad, for that matter."

"Go back to your room and take care of yourself," the President told her. "Then get back here. I'll need to make a call to Stryker and I want you there. Can you do it?"

"I'll be done bleeding by the time I get back on the elevator. I'll be right back."

"Excuse me, Mr. President," Ron said, then followed Sable out of the rooms.

"Doc, I don't have much hope that we're going to be able to find him. Your sense of smell…"

Sable shook her head. "It won't work, Ron, I can't smell him when he's not here. Whatever happens when he teleports, he goes somewhere else. I couldn't smell him when he was gone."

"What's left?"

"The school."

"You're going to have to tell him about it," Ron said, jerking his head back towards the suite.

"I should have done a long time ago."

Sable started digging out the bullets. While she did, she called the school.

"Angel? What's up?"

"Logan, I need to talk to the Professor."

"Just a minute." There was a pause, then Logan was back on. "He'll be right here. Coming for a visit while you're in town?"

Sable laughed harshly. "Doubt it; we've got a major crisis going, here. I'll try, I promise."

"Good. Here he is."

"Sable. What is it?"

"Attack, teleporter, need him found."

"When?"

"Two, maybe three minutes."

"I'll do what I can. I'll let you know when I find him."

"Thanks."

She hung up, took a quick rinse to sluice the blood off her, then changed and headed back down to the President's suite. The agents at the door let her in without checking first. Inside, Bartlett was on speaker phone.

"We're waiting for the photos now. General, Dr. Drakul just joined me. Would you tell her what you've told me?"

"Yes, Sir, gladly. Doctor, surveillance has discovered a school for mutants, in Upstate New York. I've faxed photos over, I'll explain what they show when they get there."

"How did you find this school, General?"

"Routine surveillance."

There was a knock on the door, then Ron looked in. "Sir? We have photos for you."

"Thank you, Ron."

Sable went to the door and took them, looking them over as she brought them back to the President. It was as she'd feared. She handed the photos over and turned to look out the window again as Stryker told Bartlett what was shown. They had it all, the training facilities underground, the advanced technology, even the underground hangar and the Blackbird.

Once Stryker was done, Sable turned back to Bartlett.

"Sir?" she said quietly. "I need to speak to you privately."

He nodded. "General, what is it you're proposing?"

"A raid, Sir. A raid to take prisoners and find out why this attack on you."

"General, I have other people I need to discuss this with. I will call you when we're done."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you Mr. President."

Sable didn't miss the disappointment in Stryker's voice. He'd wanted an immediate yes.

Bartlett hit a button on the phone. "Is everyone there?"

"I'm here, Sir," Nancy said. "Fitz is right next to me."

"I'm here, too, Sir," Leo said.

"Good. Should we get the rest of the Chiefs?"

"Not yet, Sir," Sable said. "What I have to say, I want to keep to these people. I'm already breaking confidence by telling you, at all."

"I think Sable has the floor, then."

"You've all seen the photos?"

They all answered yes.

"All right. I guess this isn't a secret anymore, but, the place you see is in Salem Center, New York. It's called Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. It's where I worked before I came to Washington."

"It's a school?" Nancy asked. "Then why the training facilities? And the Blackbird? We don't even have a plane that advanced."

"You remember the mutants from El Toro, that stopped Magneto?"

"The ones you didn't know?" Bartlett said dryly.

"Actually, Sir, I was very careful not to say I didn't know them."

"Yeah, I noticed that. They were from the school?"

"Magneto and Professor Xavier started the school for young mutants. It was a place they could get a very good education, in an environment where they didn't have to hide, where they could learn to use their abilities and develop a respect for humanity. All of it.

"When Magneto left, with the ideals he'd developed, Prof recognized both the threat, and normal humans' inability to successfully defend themselves. So, he created the X-Men. They were comprised of students who had stayed on to teach the next generation, students who wanted to work towards his vision of peaceful coexistence. That is what the X-Men do. Protect humanity from threats like Magneto."

"You're one?"

"Not anymore, Sir. I had joined the team, though, yes."

The President eyed her, but said nothing.

"So, these are the good guys?"

"That's exactly the case, Fitz. The Prof's looking for the attacker, in fact."

Bartlett sighed. "Can you tell me, with all truthfulness, that the attack did _not_ come from the school?"

Sable met his gaze. "No, I can't. There are people there who think that, maybe, Magneto has the right of it. But, I can say that, whether or not it originated from someone at the school, the Professor won't stop until he finds your attacker, and learns what is going on."

Bartlett nodded. "Very well. You haven't been back to visit your friends in a while, have you?"

"No, Sir."

"I want you at the school. You need to visit your friends, and I want to know I can get information when it comes in."

"Yes, Sir. I can ask the Professor to come see you, once he's found Blue Boy."

"Good, I'd like to talk to him. That's it, folks. What was said here was said in confidence, no one else is to know. No one."

There was a chorus of "Yes Mr. President," from the phone. Bartlett disconnected.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I should have. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. I understand. Thank you for telling me now. Am I right in assuming this professor of yours won't be happy you did?"

"Probably not. He doesn't want the X-Men to become a government entity."

"I can safely say that won't happen. You were one of the X-Men. You worked for that your whole time there, didn't you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Why did you leave?"

"I serve at the pleasure of this President, Sir. I have ever since Rosslyn."

"Thank you, Sable. You did good tonight. Not a side of you I hope to see again, but it's nice to know it's there. Just in case."

"Yeah. I know."

"Get going."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Mr. President."

Sable left, the suite. Ron was standing outside; she pulled him aside.

"He's asked to see the Professor."

"Think he'll come?"

"Probably. He'll likely bring someone with him."

"We'll be ready. Thanks for the heads up."

"Not a problem," she said, then left for the school.


End file.
